One-shots
by NxnsxgnorsDxmon
Summary: This book is collection of my ideas for one-shots with Jess's AHS characters and some of my favorite AHS characters. :))
1. Comfort FRANE

Jude's title, belongings and almost everything which she once possessed were all gone in the hollow. Somewhere in the pitch-black vacuum.

She was committed as a patient to the same mental institution where she has served as a nun for a decade and a half until she was being stripped off her clerical name and the former nun lost almost everything, or rather perhaps everything.

As her first days as an inmate weren't the best ones, she was just mumbling to herself, rejecting to take the medicaments which were peculiar drugs, envenoming her body and destroying her brain cells, subsequently affecting her mental stability as well.

At last but not least, she spoke to no one with a handful of exceptions. They were Lana, Kit, Pepper and Frank.

She was wondering how her favorite ex-employer survived the possessed young nun's attack as his throat was slit by her letter opener shortly after he locked up the murderous Santa Claus under the name Leigh Emerson. An unsolved question for her until nowadays as a madwoman.

The former nun was sitting on the edge of the tattered, filthy bed in her chilly, stanching ward. Ebony overally invaded her ward as she wasn't capable of beholding the nearest objects, surrounding her. They seemed rather oblivious to her, in fact, the darkness concealed them under the shadow wings.

Jude had already dinner and the other inmates' wails which were sufficiently audible for her ears, yielded her ears to bleed as they were vaguely louder than before, when she used to be a sister of the church. It was a common phenomenon the insane patients' sorrowful and hysterical cries, overspreading from wall to room. Nonetheless, since Briarcliff's downfall as Jude's no longer in charge of running the facility, it was obvious the things won't be sort and be the same ever again.

Suddenly she heard clicking keys, levitating in the long hallway of the women's wing, approaching masculine footsteps whether Carl, Timothy or even Frank.

Once these footsteps halted, the sound of unlocking door promptly grabbed the blonde's attention as well, daring her hazelish-brown eyes to the old, iron door of her ward until another sound of the keys, concluding with unlocking door opening askew as Frank, the former police officer offered a genial, heartfeeling smile to his former boss, who was currently patient.

When he stepped up inside her ward, shutting the mildly creaky door behind him, Jude's palish face became sanguine as his presence was one of the fragments, granting her a heavenly hope.

At last but not least, the former holy woman couldn't be more ashamed to being seen as a madwoman, dressed up in ragged, ordinary garments which weren't enough to resist the cold climate that contacted her silken though sleeved in filth skin, losing its neatness.

In this moment, Jude bowed her head in shame, recognizing the masculine, velvety voice that exclaimed in the lurking darkness, timidly approaching her:

"J-Jude?"

Neither a response, nor a reaction was followed by her. Glacial tears betrayed to tumble down her soiled cheeks, as a result, she hasn't even washed her face for days. On the contrary, her heavy eyelids with its built ounce approaching its apogee to close like blinds within minutes, were already pooled with dew of moistness, keeping her wits about the melancholy she experienced lately especially when the most loyal friend she has ever had in her life witnessed her gradual nemesis as her self-confidence significantly diminished.

The former promiscuous nightclub singer wasn't the same woman she knew herself ever again. Little did she know since the loss of everything which she once possessed how it affected her en bloc. Sandstorm razed to the ground the facades that balanced her. Shattering everything literally.

In the meanwhile, her elbows propped her hands that held her face, flipping backward her unkempt, nevertheless, unarguably stunning golden hair that once possessed its glossiness until the former member of the clergy lost everything and an access to decent, regular hygiene and beauty products which the blonde used to possess, although they were almost redundant.

"Jude, are you alright?" The security guard asked concerned by taking a seat next to her, averting her fatigued eyes, evading an eye contact with her friend.

Jude omitted a sigh by taking a deep breath, sniffling soundly as the scenery of her Achilles' Feet was heartbreaking for Frank, himself. The middle-aged man has never seen his favorite former nun in such vulnerable, forlorn condition. Condition, he has never seen, encircling her. Roller coaster that descended from the top where she peaked during her nunnery, as descend incarnated her drastic, remorseless nemesis.

"Frank, you have no idea how ashamed I am actually. Nevertheless, how do you can still interact to a woman, who's nothing but a lunatic with past you don't want even to hear and leave you speechless?" She enquired beyond pessimistically, presuming the worst as always as lucid, wry tears streamed down her face, incapable of abstaining herself from the melancholy that invaded her in the past days.

"Judy, do not talk like that! You aren't a lunatic. These sons of the bitches imprisoned you intentionally as they believed this insane patient." His larger, surprisingly smooth hands grabbed her petite, filthy ones, fitting perfectly. Moreover, Jude was flabbergasted by Frank's caring and benevolent nature, demonstrating brilliant compassion towards his friend he used to collaborate, during her nunnery. Frank was offended once he heard how the middle-aged lady called herself and the razor-edged words she used. "You played in the wrong team and they betrayed you when you needed them the most especially the Monsignor." When the former cop mentioned Timothy's name, the heartaching sensation that she felt in her pulsating chest, reborned all over again.

The thought of the priest who she was doted on him, beget conflicting feelings and emotions, brewing and cooking inside her. On one hand, Jude couldn't endure the severe heartbreak she experienced as soon as he believed Leigh Emerson instead of listening to her story. On other hand, she was blindly doted on Timothy again, despite the gut-wrenching heartbreak which she has the least expected from such man. Man, who was bashful and struck her first with his loving, caring, aspiring and strong-willed nature until this betrayal blocked her way to the light she seeked for a long time, longing for it.

"I know, Frank! I just don't know what I shall do from now on except to rot there, according to the destiny that retributed me." She shrugged self-consciously shoulders as she was almost speechless to carry on with her monologue, her whimpers embodying her genuine misery, inked on her fragile soul. "Why you even care about me when I am just a damn, worthless piece of waste?" She bewailed desperately, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Shu, shu, shu, Judy!" He removed one of his hands from her trembling ones by managing up a hand to the left side of her head, pushing it as he ran his long, fine fingers through her wild honey tresses, combing them as he admired the softness of her yet dazzling hair. The thumb of his mammoth hand kneaded the back of her hands gently. Further, the middle-aged man opted to comfort one of his friends that abided loyal and genuine for years. "You are not going to die right here, right there. Trust me, sooner or later I will find a way to get you out of there and we can flee together."

Silence arched between the both adults as he incessantly shushed softly to her, persuading her to stop cry and weep as he got her back as well.

In the interim, he pecked a kiss on her forehead, stroking her hair.

Jude couldn't contain a blossoming, rare smile she wore on her still lovely face with its bewitching facial features though the passing years and the aging process were inevitable. Her heart melted as she listened attentively Frank's soothing words as he guaranteed her they will flee along the nuthouse one day. What she additionally felt was a profound, spiritual connection with the man she had always platonic bond and being deeply touched by his solicitude. Furthermore, the former nun felt the warmness, encompassing her and contacting her sensitive, goosebumped skin, factly, the cold climate didn't affect her skin beneficially at all.

In addition to Frank's promise to release her from the madhouse, the blonde abstained from further blandly commenting whether if it's a joke or a hopeful promise.

"As an answer to your question, why I still care about you is that you are a loyal friend and I know our friendship truly means to both of us. I cannot abandon you all alone in the limbo." His hand lowered to her shoulder as he dangled his muscular, strong arm around her upper back, rubbing her back in reassuring manner as their bright smiles flourished in the darkest night, hence, lit up their faces. "You are a valuable, wonderful friend and woman. Never and ever forget these words, Judy!" When he advised her, he removed his other hand from hers, pulling her in a tight, warm embrace as she couldn't help, but snaking her skinny arms around his back, burying her face in the crook of his neck, closing her eyes and relished momentarily the moment of their closeness. For what Jude hankered for was the moment to last not for a single second. Nor for a sole minute. The ethereal eternity should stop the time, in fact, to snuggle in the security guard, absorbing the warmness from his body.

Afterwards they broke off the hug, admiring one another's facial features.

"Frank, I have a confession for you since our friendship sparkles."

"Go for it, Jude!" He listened with immense enthusiasm what might be her impending words that are going to imprint in his mind for the rest of the somber, relentless night.

"I love you!"

"I love you even more!"


	2. Kiss of Fire NUNSIGNOR

Jude hasn't always being loved and she has never found comfort in the opposite sex's company as they temporarily used her for their own physical and venereal needs. The former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer found comfort rather in the alcohol that muted the sorrowful pain of her past as its demons eagerly haunted her since her youth.

The one night stands to resurrect her body and physical, sexual pleasure. To sing in a nightclub and being incessantly touched by other men with their rough, large hands as each lightest touch granted her pleasure, sending shivers down her body of sweetness and carnal pleasure. Little did she know how savagely dangerous were these men. Assaulting her neck with ferocious kisses as they nibbled the silky, creamy skin of her pale neck; tugging her mane of long old Hollywood curls, descending down her upper back; bodies rubbing against one another; Soft skins contacting; Sore groans and moans escaping from the top of their lungs; Ravishing red stained lipstick left traces on their plain, light shirts and t heir damp lips. Traces of dragged well-formed nails in their backs' flesh, due to the igneous gusto they shared together as a piece of moment. Hickeys were naturally inked on her neck and her cleavage, as a result of their bloodthirsty, aggressive kisses on the neck and nibbling teeth they used.

Now the life as a nun wasn't easy at all, nevertheless much better not until she finally found God and was employed in Briarcliff.

As the middle-aged woman anticipated the Monsignor for a coq-au-vin dinner since it was Friday, for this purpose after she finished with caning two pigheaded riots, she went in the kitchen as she studiously prepared the ingredients.

During the dinner's preparation, the middle-aged lady chopped the onions as she was equipped with a plain white apron, shielding her rigid conservative habit, reciting inwardly her evening prayer:

"Holy Spirit, Love poured into our hearts, who grant grace and inspiration to our minds, the perennial Source of life, who bring to fulfilment the mission of Christ by means of many charisms, we pray to you for sister."

All of a sudden, her teary eyelids shed a several wry tears, tumbling down her creamy cheeks as she wiped them with her forearm, due to the acute onion's fragrance that levitated in the kitchen, yielding her eyes to produce crystal tears, itching her eyelids. In the meantime, she sniffled, waiting for the dish to bake.

A half an hour remained until the remarkable dinner with Timothy as the sister of the church headed up to change herself by putting on her frail skeleton the bloody red satin negligee which she specially wore for Timothy as she applied a tad quantity of make-up on her pale complexion and cologne, spraying on her cleavage and collarbones, slowly until she got dressed up in her dark clerical gown, starting to button from under her chin until her dexterious fingers peaked to the hem of the ridig robe, concluding by dusting with the palms of her hands everywhere that hugged underneath her Pandora's box with its yet undiscovered paradoxal mysteries.

Thereafter she fled her office by imposing the "Stairway to Heaven" and paced up to the kitchen.

Once her agitated brown orbs scanned quizzically the oven's timer, she read it exactly 5 more minutes.

"I hope he enjoys it!" The blonde whispered insecure in low voice to herself, glued eyes to the ceiling, pursing her lips in unsettled manner, wondering if the currently baking dinner dish is as mouth-watering and enjoyable as the times prior.

As she had limited bonus time, the nun adorned the dining table with a bottle of communion wine and silverware eating tools as her lips popped up like exploding dynamite.

Afterwards she found two empty plates until the oven piped, being all ears as the dinner meal has already baked.

It was high time for her to serve coq-au-vin in both plates until a handful of door raps snapped her of her pensiveness. Jude was completely sure it was Timothy, yelling:

"Yes? Come in!"

In the meanwhile, the man of the cloth entered in the kitchen, shutting the door behind him.

"Good evening, Sister!" He greeted her graciously, offering her a benevolent, sheepish smile, spread across his lips.

"Good evening, Timothy!" She responded enthusiastically as t he blonde couldn't help when her girlish, bashful smile flashed on her white like milk complexion. Meanwhile Jude served the plates with coq-au-vin on the kitchen table in no time. "How your day passed?" Once she addressed him informally as it was her second nature, the younger man couldn't contain flushed face.

"Pretty busy as well. Thank you!" He was beyond touched by her sudden verve. When it was up to Timothy, her maternal instinct promptly was unlocked with its key which she stored it inside herself, unable to use it unless if it was somebody like him or whom she got along well and was her juniors. The both adults momentarily took their seats on the kitchen table as they sat alongside one another. "What about you too, Sister?" He inquired her back with immense interest, awaiting her rational reply.

"It passed hectic as always." The former licentious jazz nightclub singer took a deep breath, seconds before commencing to assault her dish by grabbing her silver fork and silver platted dinner knife. "Canning riots, inspecting sonly committed lunatics. Repeating the same schedule daily." In the interim, Timothy poured some communion wine in his empty glass by grasping the glass bottle and offered Jude though she lifted a forefinger, rejecting offer.

"At least, I believe your days are different than these where the patients are being punished and spent a couple of minutes, reading an inmate's file per an inmate. Would you like some communion wine, Sister?"

"Timothy, I don't want to sound brash, but I have renounced myself drinking." The sister of the church expressed her solemn apology, factly, she had combated one of her vicious demons for ages back in her sinful past that was on one hand a medicament to numb her timeless pain, whilst on other hand, causing even more detrimental bids. Moreover, she didn't want to be haunted by the demon of the hanker for alcohol for the rest of her life. "You know my condition as well." She furthered in velvety voice as he left the glass of communion wine in the middle of table, beginning to attack his dish by savoring its scrumptious meal. The younger man accepted immediately her apology and her words, assimilating it though he didn't want to violate her personal space by asking more detailed and ruin their Friday dinner night, which they shared as a piece of moment once a week.

"It's alright." Hence, he munched the coq-au-vin that molted in his warm mouth as his chocolate brown eyes shifted to her, observing his favorite nun how she was masticating and scrutinizing her body language and actions. Something seemed much different tonight especially according to Timothy's philosophy and in general. The nun eyed her coq-au-vin, feeling two pairs of deep chocolate pools observing her as she couldn't help but blush, feeling her cheeks heating beneath her silky, creamy skin of her face. "Do you mind if I address you Jude instead Sister?"

"Sure!" She was fed up by being called formally especially by the man she yearned for, in fact, she felt potent otherworldly connection with him for a long time. In this moment, the holy man sipped his wine as its alcoholic beverage burned the corner of his mouth, gushing down inside his body and resurrecting it from its wasteland of dryness. "I would prefer to being called Jude, to be honest." Jude confessed truthfully as she looked up at the priest as their eyes met for a while until he looked away.

The both saintly members of the clergy proceed with eating in silence for straight quarter an hour until they finished with their dishes and emptied successfully their plates.

Shortly after they finished with the eating process, Jude got from the table by cleaning the kitchen as she picked up the used, filthy dishes and silverware eating tools, posing a serious question to the younger man:

"Timothy, are you going to drink yet your communion wine?"

"No, thank you! I am not thirsty anymore." Meantime she took the partly filled glass of red wine, putting the dishes and silverware tools in the sink, filling them with water until he got from the chair and snuck up behind her, snaking his strong, muscular arms around her slim waist as initially she flinched and paroxysm hit her out of nowhere. "Don't be afraid, Jude! If you need my help with the plates and tools, I am right here."

"You are so polite but I can do it by myself." Her strong-willed nature never amused him since the blonde was facing the cruelties in this world from young age. Further, she was indisputably touched by his interest to participate in aiding her.

"Come on, Jude!" Nevertheless the member of the church leaned down as his face was against her partly exposing ear, whispering softly in her ear, doing wonders to her body with his decent British accent as shivers of pleasure electroshock her body in an instant. "Could you finish the glass of communion wine, please?" His utterance sounded rather bizarre for her, factly, she told him she gave up the alcoholism and she doesn't wants to renounce her vows. What she hasn't expected at all was actually his eccentric behavior especially now when he forced her to drink of his glass.

"But, Timothy," The holy woman turned to him as their eyes met. Her face sunk in sanguine tint as she stuttered reluctantly. "I told ya, I am not drinking for ages." She cautioned, opting to control her voice tone as she was never being capable of disrespecting him since he was her boss and she was his chosen right hand nun.

"I know, Jude. But could you do it just for me only? Just for me? I promise."

She shuddered by grasping yet the glass of communion wine as his mammoth hands were still on her waist. What the middle-aged woman didn't want to do is actually disappointing the man she has devoted herself as colleagues and friends.

Once she lifted up the glass as it met her lukewarm, luscious lips, she opened her mouth by gulping in a single sip the liquor, swallowing it until she put the glass with the other tools for washing.

Jude's inebriated condition was evident after gulping instantly the partly filled glass with its alcoholic beverage, commanding her body and mind as she wasn't able to control herself any longer. The demon of the past roamed around the kitchen where the both members of the clergy were right now. Surveying her manners, actions and so forth.

Suddenly Timothy's face approached hers as she giggled uneasily as their faces were scarcely inches away from each other. She had never expected this to be a dream come true especially sharing barely any inch proximity with the love of her life's face. It was so unpredictable. So arcane. So hypnotizing.

The truth was actually Timothy ached to kiss the woman he fell in love since the beginning and their first encounter as she was the sole person , who broke his curse of keeping his vows and the fact of never falling in love with a representative from the opposite sex. Thousands of butterflies fluttered inside their stomachs. Two fools in love knew exactly what they wanted as they equally lusted for it.

Jude has never told the younger man about her lewd and unedifying past, where she played an antagonist. An antagonist against the norms and morals. It wasn't her fault for all this, of course. Little did she know how he might react as soon as he hears every discreet detail about her past. All she has impended was of judgment and being rejected by the man, she madly fell in love.

Regardless the circumstances, Timothy loved her for what she's and genuinely appreciated and valued her as a woman and person, not perceiving her as a mere nun tonight. If he has never even heard of her past or at least has heard something behind the mask of the stern, cold-blooded nun that concealed a heartbroken, lonely and lacking of love and warmness lady, he still was doted on her unarguably.

"Timothy, just tell me why I needed to drink your unfinished glass of wine." She seeked logical answers, giving him time to think about it.

"I just," He paused as he captured her lips, sealing them with his lustful, damp lips as the both secret lovers longed for this to happen eventually.

In the meantime, the older woman clasped her both arms around his shoulders as his fingers caressed her waist, admiring its slimness. Closing their eyes as they relished the phenomenal moment. In a matter of seconds, their kisses' intensity escalated as they were tending to be ferocious and savage, muffling quiet moans as Timothy didn't know what to do afterwards as his other hand traveled up to her conservative dark wimple, snaffling it without asking her directly as he knew right away she would permit him, tossing it rakishly on the floor. She was unable to break off the kiss as the faces of the church were bewitched by their kiss. The kiss of the forbidden fruit in Eden's garden. Her mane of silken golden curls cascaded down her upper back.

"I don't want to disappoint you, Jude. Nonetheless, I have never kissed a woman ever in my life." He confessed in aboveboard manner.

"It's okay, sweet boy." He ran vigorously his well defined fingers through her honey blonde tresses, combing them. "Just be natural." She advised him otherwise, besides encouraging him to be himself as he experienced his ever first kiss in his life. Jude was more than ready to guide Timothy though his absenting experience in the kisses and sex. She would never forsaken him just because of his inexperience. She loved his honesty as it was a key to fall in love with him even more and be the first woman, who's being kissed by him.

Consequently she slid her tongue to his bottom lip, ushering him to enter his mouth as she plugged her wet, wine-stained tongue inside his mouth, poking his inactive wine-stained, soaked tongue, urging him to duel against hers. He did meekly what her actions were doing so. As their tongues were dancing altogether, subsequently his surprisingly won over hers, plugging it inside hers, deepening the scorching kiss in a French one, building its intensity. Releasing muffled moans, levitating in the kitchen as they were all alone. No one disturbed them which was one of the perfect things about Timothy's first kiss. Everything else even their surroundings were hazily oblivious for them. They didn't even care who could enter in the kitchen and interrupt their sweet, sultry moment.

Kiss of fire between two members of the clergy, who all wanted is to connect along not only physically and mentally, moreover spiritually, feeling their essences merging. The kiss of fire was fueling their melting their hearts, animating them to edges. Paradise for the fools in love, who shared a piece of remarkable memory that will abide in their hearts and minds for eternity even in their afterlives. They were on the seventh sky during and after the kiss, although they yearned for its eternity.

"Don't you know how much I have desired for this?" Timothy whispered between the kiss very softly.

"Me either." The nun confessed as they broke off the kiss, withdrawing their faces as his colossal, handy hands moved up to her face, cupping her cheeks. Her hands lowered to his shoulders, admiring one another's enchanting facial features. Eyes glinted with twinkles of bliss, lust, desire and undeniable love. Content, saturating smiles honed up in the corner of their lips. Severe heart beats pulsated in their ribs. "I love you, Timothy!"

"I love you too, rara avis!" Timothy confessed for first time his strong love for his favorite nun in audacious way. It molted her heart, of course.

What the truth managed to tell us is the kiss of fire unites two lovers, who have a yen for another other though the years of abstinence that blocked their path to take the further step in their arcane relationship! Kiss of fire was their medicament for their somber issues that plagued their minds and corrupting each cell. They will never and ever forget this night and store it up in the limbo!


	3. Platonic Dinner JUDE X MARY EUNICE

Jude was sitting on her hardwood, lacquered desk in her dim lit office in the wee hours of the night, she was equipped with regular pair of eyeglasses, checking sonly some committed lunatics, surveying their biographies and stories before being actually housed for the rest of their days, destined to root and die in misery of the vacuum limbo.

The inmates were already locked up in their wards to have extra good night sleep and being supervised by the security guards in the men and women's wings.

Today the middle-aged sister of the Roman Catholic church had a tough, particularly fatiguing day as her nerves verged to spring up like a toy-out-of-box. What she felt in general was actually a condition which she perfectly normal experienced almost incessantly.

Condition of being jaded after abundance of pressure flooded her body and mind. Condition that drained her physical and mental stamina she possessed.

Jude was no longer in mood in sharing profound, complex discussions right now with a handful of exceptions.

Whilst the middle-aged woman was folding forward by checking the imminent patient's files as her dexterous fingers tipped the sheet, meantime a couple of light door raps snapped her out of her current task as she acknowledged in an instant who stood before her office's door.

"Yes?" The blonde evoked sternly as she peeped over the sheet of paper's file as her parchment hand held it. She didn't take her inquisitive eyes off the door with its mosaic glass.

"Good evening, Sister!" The much younger sister Mary Eunice greeted warmly as she held a platter with their dinner meal, wearing a coy, girlish smile, honed up in the corner of her lips.

"Good evening, Mary Eunice!" The elder lady replied with a tad enthusiasm, vomiting in her voice undertone as she got to start in sorting the inmates' files, tidying her hardwood desk by removing in a swift motion her ordinary pair of eyeglasses, which motionlessly sat on the bridge of her delicate, elegant nose.

"What a splendid surprise of bringing dinner," The older blonde stuttered, licking greedily her lips as soon as the pervasive scents of buttered pitas breads, the bowls with hot tomato soups and honey puddings toyed with her nostrils, no longer bearing the gluttony that invaded her physically and mentally. It has been a long time since she has eaten something sweeter than honey pudding. She loved honey pudding though since the beginning of another life as a nun, where the frugal meals were part of her daily diet, despite the coq-au-vin dishes which she affords every Friday night especially for the Monsignor's sake. Jude was eyeing down the platter with its scrumptious dishes for the both ladies as if she was a predatory beast, while the tomato soup and honey puddings with the buttered pitas breads were playing the roles of innoxious preys. "It looks so delicious." Mary Eunice set the platter with their dinner meals on the polished desk as soon as Jude tidied her bureau, getting rid off worthless items which were taking extra, superfluous space.

"Just for both of us, Jude!" The young nun replied bashfully as she couldn't contain blush as her young-looking, fresh face was airbrushed in sanguine tint when she addressed her tutor by her first name informally, chewing her bottom lip as the older woman instead of expressing her frustration and quarreling right at her for this, she just gave her protégé a benevolent smile, hugging her berry-coloured, plumpish lips, rising her head as their eyes met.

"That's going to be one wonderful dinner night between us, Mary Eunice! You shouldn't be too fearful of addressing me Jude, instead of Sister." The both women seated against one another as their eyes met as the platter in the middle of the bureau was adorned with not only bowls of hot tomato soup, moreover with buttered pitas breads, honey puddings and silverware eating tools with handkerchiefs.

The truth was actually Jude was fed up of calling the younger blonde with her ecclesiastical title which they wore together, hence, it was her second nature to call her Mary Eunice, finding it for perfectly normal since their unarguable potent, doting platonic bond they have developed through the years of collaborating as devotional members of the clergy. Not only that was the genuine motive why their bond was undeniably puissant, even more Jude considered the innocent, unblemished nun as her own daughter role figure, although the ineluctable, sinister circumstance of infertility and emptiness she possessed years after blindly falling in love with her former fiancé, who hurted her not only with its foul infidelity and somber heartbreak, but also getting her down with a gruesome sickness, ceasing her to bear her own children to teach them and love with her entire heart.

"If you say so, Jude…Indeed, one wonderful dinner night between and for us only!" Mary Eunice stammered as she grabbed her silver spoon, occupying her petite, smooth hand, whereas the other one reached for her bowl of hot tomato soup and Jude commenced to equip herself with a spoon and bowl of soup, savoring it.

"For sure!"

In the first minutes of the dinner, they ate in silence until the moments turned into seconds, then they turned into minutes, advancing exceedingly, they could bear no longer the intense hush, arching between them. Unless the middle-aged woman broke the ice at last:

"How your day passed?"

"As usually, exhausting and dynamic! I really can't complain about it." The younger lady responded emphatically as she played in unsettled manner with her parchment, brittle fingers as they were on her lap, finishing her soup in a matter of minutes since it was damn mouth-watering and resuscitating her frail skeleton from its hunger, she has experienced without eating anything in hours, in fact, her daily schedule was immensely enervating and hectic, unable to rest for a single second.

"My day could be perfectly described in that way. At least, I feel better working as a nun than what I used to be stony-broke before joining the church, struggling to survive daily."

"Oh!" The younger blonde cried out shortly after munching the last bite of her buttered pita, consequently wiping her clammy jaw with a handkerchief as she shifted her sheer sapphire blue eyes, fulfilled with delirious innocence and verdure, glinting its light nuances. What it intrigued her was actually about her tutor's past. Past, full of paradoxal mysteries whether if they are prone to be disappointing or on the contrary relieving, removing its burdening ounce off the victim's shoulders. "You used to have a terrible life before joining there?"

"Of course, I did." Jude paused in wry manner, leaving her silverware tool in the platter with her already emptied bowl of tomato soup. What she felt was a demon, sent from igniting hell of her sinful past, haunting her as soon as she recalled its rueful moments of her life when she used to be a lewd, impulsive bimbo, who followed her heart as its booziness resiliently commanded her body instead of thinking before acting. Demon, roaming around her austere office with its his old victim of her past. "I wasn't the woman who I am right now. The considering, caring, selfless and compassionate who I became years after facing bigger monsters than my own foes." Afterwards she exhaled sharply, dramatically by pursing her lips, hence, popping them up as if a dynamite has exploded. "I doubt it you would like to listen about my past, Mary Eunice! I assure ya!"

"Jude, you don't have any idea what child I used to be when I was younger."

"You were a kid back then! We're all sinners. Every one of us!"

"You don't understand what I did as a child." The younger woman heaved a sigh, escaping the top of her fragile lungs. Meanwhile her eyelids were pooled with wryness of dew, sprung her impending bittersweet tears which are almost ready to spout down her milky cheeks as she felt guilty conscience gnawing her slowly, gradually. "My parents have never liked me and they have always treated me if I was actually a stranger as one day when I was barely 10 years old girl," Mary Eunice paused by taking her spoon and bowl of honey pudding by exhaling, recalling the explicit graphic memories of her painful childhood with her parents. "As I was sick and tired of their unmerited yells and being treated not as a normal child, hence, guess what I did!" Jude listened attentively her protégé without disrespecting her and cutting her off in the middle of her utterance as she was all ears, masticating from her own honey pudding. Her honey brown eyes were darted to the innocent sister of the church's azure blue eyes, vomiting its insecurity and bashfulness which she naturally possessed incessantly, noting something was readily hitching her, recognizing it in no time.

"I'm listening!" The elder member of the church exclaimed plainly shortly after masticating a bite from her dessert.

"I was just sick and tired of them. They didn't treat me as a child who's supposed to be loved. When they were in the barn, feeding the horses which my family owned, as I knew they were already inside the barn and I scratched marks by throwing it onto the countryside building, taking steps backwards to be as far as I could. I watched and watched the burning farm where my parents were trapped in the fire. I wasn't feeling guilty back. I was rather smug by rebelling against them." Subsequently the young blonde inhaled inwardly, leaving her bowl of honey pudding and spoon back in the platter as her hands were uncomfortably tipping the rigid, conservative dark fabric of her habit as her hands were on her thighs. "I didn't care how much they hated me. I didn't care at all. All I can hear was their hysterical screams, crying out loud for help and cursing the perpetrator, who set on fire the barn."

"Oh!" Jude gasped, paying utterly attention to the younger clerical member of the clergy's speech without interrupting her directly, nonplussed what she really thinks of this, although she knew right away it wasn't as horrendous as her depraved, dingy past at all. Pasts, brightly contrasting one another as if its oppositions were attracting together like magnets.

"They found an alternative how to escape the burning barn as quickly as possible with the horses as they were safe and sound. Then something chimed them I actually burned the barn by trying to kill them as a part of my revenge for their inferiority towards me." In the meanwhile, she swallowed hard as soon as the worst part was coming. "Finally my goose was cooked after all this."

Silence fell between the both women as a derisory smile, blossomed on the middle-aged woman's porcelain face, framing her ethereal, natural grace which she possessed whenever she's gleeful, moody or downhearted.

"Mary Eunice, ya shouldn't blame yourself for this! You did what your impulse and inner childish voice told you so then. It's perfectly normal one child to make such mistakes. It's forgiving, at least."

Thereafter the younger lady accepted Jude's wise piece of advise, affirming her words by humbly nodding her head, without getting in heating bland argues with her and confronting her stiff-necked side which she once unlocks, there's no escape from it unless she agrees with her. A sympathetic, demure smile flourished on her rosy-coloured, damp lips. Her frail heart molted as soon as the older blonde's train of words marched the railway. Words, persuading her that Mary Eunice used to be a little, perplexed little girl whose mistakes can be effortlessly forgiven without further ado unlike Jude's humongous, callous mistakes which on one hand transformed her in a much stronger, persisting and less trusting lady, while on other hand, she was beyond ashamed to tell any living soul about her gloomy past, when she was much different person.

"I'm not blaming myself. I am just realizing how infantile it was of my side. You are definitely right! I was just," In the interim, Mary Eunice shrugged her shoulders embarrassed. "A child!" She suddenly lowered her honeyed voice.

"That's what I am talking about, dear child! You have matured and realized every element between what's right and what's actually wrong."

"Indeed! Jude, do you mind if you tell me a bit more about your past or the mistakes which you can't even forgive yourself for?"

"I warned ya, I doubt it you will like it but since you insist, here we go!" The former promiscuous nightclub singer took a deep breath as she cleared her throat, seconds before commencing with her monologue about her debauched, grim past which she profoundly regretted from the bottom of her heart. Furthermore, what she attempted to do was to sort her mind, moments before starting promptly to spit out the truth. "I was just a young woman. A fool in love when it all began. Perhaps I was actually 18 years old gal, who fell head over heels with a man, who I considered as fine, caring, selfless and doting. His name was Casey. Yeah!" She dramatically lingering by tasting from the sweet, lip-smacking dessert she has ever eaten since she's part of the Roman Catholic church's duties. Meantime the younger nun didn't peel a single word, thoughtfully listening to her tutor's utterance, biting her bottom lip. "We used to be so happy and rejoiced together. We're along for a few years until the last weeks of our relationship I noticed something odd in him. The things turned out to be much different. He didn't seem satisfied at all. I just didn't know why. Not only he broke my heart and hurt me with his infidelity, even more he took away my most precious thing I could ever have if it wasn't it." Jude abstained from weeping, in spite of her eyelids sunk in its crystal, lucid dew of welling tears, which are tending to gush down extremely soon. "Children of my own! To teach and love." She whispered beyond desperately, bowing her head, while leaving her bowl of pudding and spoon in the bowl in the platter, holding her head.

"He put the blame on me as he called me a liar and a whore, therefore I became the whore as I was numbing myself with alcohol, boozing it until I passed and my memories and everything seemed blurring in my vision. I slept with more men than a normal woman get laid with for her whole life. One day, I was just desperate as I was inebriated in the middle of the night, driving until I crashed my cab in an angel statue and establishing there. In Saint Andrews where your tutor is here and there." The older nun resumed her long, deplorable exclaimation behind her dark past that haunted her as old demons, returning from the searing hell to torture her in each way.

What Jude expected was her protégé's instant disgust of her though she knew promptly Mary Eunice will love her as her own mother-figure, regardless what she used to be in the past, deeply relieving her. Little did she know about her impending reaction. The young woman figured out how tremendously painful and tormenting experience was as a roller coaster of her love life, descending gradually until it peaks the minimum level, without towering upwards, reckoning its progress.

The younger blonde put herself in Jude's shoes, already picturing the scenery of the immense pain and sorrow which might encircle her if she had such an ex-boyfriend, leading her to the high-class prostitution after being dumped, muting her sorrow and affliction with the alcohol as it was her sole hope for everything problematic.

"I am so sorry for hearing this."

"You shouldn't be sorry, Mary Eunice! It's in the past. We are living for today and tomorrow with new brighter hopes." What the former jazz nightclub singer abhorred most of all was actually the feeling of being pitied and considered as a victim.

"Exactly! But I highly doubt to forgive myself for what I did a long time ago."

"Aww, Mary Eunice! It's okay." In the meantime, the elder holy woman got from her chair as she rambled up to the younger woman, sitting on her desk as she placed on top of her shoulders her elvish, creamy hands, opting to soothe her by offering her a genial smile, distorted across her lips. Mary Eunice momentarily tilted her head as their gazes linked, locking up one another's piercing eyes as she couldn't help but smile in return. "You are still the pure and innocent girl in my eyes. I understand you how much you hated your biological parents and treated you unfairly, but look at us. You have me and I have you!"

Afterwards she got from her wooden, polished chair by approaching the older lady, snaking her arms around her upper back by pulling her towards her in a tight, warm and affable embrace as Jude couldn't repress the instinctive urge to clasp her arms around her sidekick's shoulders, imbibing its mutual warmness they shared with each other as she buried her youthful face in the crook of Jude's neck, shutting tightly their eyes as they permitted themselves to relish the hug they sunk into. Their heavily throbbing hearts in their ribs were pressed against one another, feeling the motion of its frequent beats.

"Do you truly mean all this?"

"I say what I really mean, Mary Eunice! I am never prone to lie somebody. I would like to thank you for this splendid dinner we had altogether. I truly appreciate it, my child!"

In the interim, they broke off the hug as they withdrew their faces a handful of inches, taking their time to admire each other's enthralling facial features as the both ladies were feeling much better after comforting and spilling the tea about their horrid memories which they shared along. They were not only in better condition and feeling less ounce burdening their frangible souls, but also they were relieved.

"No need to thank me, Jude! I really loved the dinner night we shared together and discussed together our burdening issues. You are my nonpareil mother figure as you know and you are my family, you know."

"You can always count on me, no matter what's encumbering you as well." A sheepish, modest smile flashed on the young sister of the church's palish, parchment complexion, illustrating her sheer and childish innocence as she resembled a true angel.

"Of course, I will! Thank you once again, Jude!" In the meantime, Mary Eunice was grabbed the platter with the emptied bowls of desserts and dishes as its pitas breads' crumbs sheeted the salver, heaving it as Jude aided her by opening her office's door.

"No problem, Mary Eunice! Good night and sleep tight!"

"Thank you and you too!"

Then the younger blonde fled her tutor's office as soon as possible by pacing up in the dark, long hallway of the nuthouse until she descends _the Stairway to Heaven_'s stairs and heads up to the kitchen. While the middle-aged lady took a deep breath as she closed her office's door, shutting it.

Jude has always loved Mary Eunice and became doted on her in no time since the beginning. Nonetheless, tonight's dinner which they shared as a piece of moment of rapprochement was one of the most unique memories which she's going to store up not only in her mind, further, abysmally in her heart, recalling the night whereas she shared with Mary Eunice her regretful past and vice versa.


	4. Crystal Gore NUNSIGNOR

Jude hasn't always being an optimistic woman. Furthemore, the combat that endured for ages. Ages of heartbreaks, endless sorrow, bleak melancholy and shed crystal tears, embodying each fragment of her befall and dynamic roller coaster of her life, fueled with failures.

What granted her ultimate felicity and sufficient comfort was God's second chance. She readily embraced it with open arms as a God blessing. A new celestial roof under God's hand. A better job than singing in the local nightclubs, boozing insane quantity of sinful, insatiable liquor, fancing and getting laid whether in the filthy, reeking of sex restrooms or old, grubby motel rooms which were reserved by the one night stand lovers as brisk walks divided them from the bed. Bed which was temporarily being resided by their mortal fleshy bodies as on the morning after were transformed into barrens, as a result of their sex battlefield. Shrivelled bed sheets. Collected discarded garments which were carelessly tossed on the floor by sheeting them. Ravishing red lipstick stained on the bed sheets and pillows, as a result of the former nightclub singer's lustful, daring kisses. The beds' springs jingling as they frequently sprung under the mattresses, interweaving with the muffled, sensual moans which floated in the motel rooms.

Nonetheless the first years as a nun were perfectly alleviating for her until she met the love of her life or rather her love interest, whom she firstly laid passionately eyes on and thinks he hung the moon since their first encounter. He was actually her dream come true, although their already took solemn vows of celibacy, stone hearts which were almost impossible for being poured with its love and lust potions, bewitching them.

Their relationship conveyed quickly from professional into a platonic one as their once a week coq-au-vin dinners, sharing similar views and ideas on saving wretched souls and their indisputably potent chemistry united them as a bond which has a great potential as a couple, regardless an unwed or a wed one. 2 essences mingling along as its handicaps are being ebbed.

Frank and Timothy were the sole men ever in her life who treated her well unlike her one-night stand lovers even her former fiancé, Casey.

Today it wasn't one of the best days in Jude's life as well. She was sitting as usually in her austere office as the light which dispersed through her office's window bathed the room in light, illuminating it, whereas the light illuminated as its lighter nuances of her rigid, conservative habit and dark wimple acquired light-toned ebon tinges. The former promiscuous nightclub singer was playing disquietly with her long, slim fingers after finishing with perusing recently committed patients' files by studying their biographies and the motives why they're jailed in the mental hospital. Her polished, cherry wood bureau was adorned rather with her pair of eyeglasses which sat motionlessly on the bureau, followed by letter opener and rosary beads as each bead glimmered past her hazelish-brown eyes which absent-mindedly, glassily wandered in each direction of her office even idly glimpsing her en-suite bedroom's shut door.

Lately she has been thinking of committing suicide or putting an end to her existence since the blonde couldn't any longer overcome her melancholy over her past even the mistakes she did, besides the glacial desolation which encompassed her for not having a lover or a love companion to alleviate her, persuading her she's still beautiful and feel the love from a representative of the opposite sex which Jude hasn't experienced ever in the roller coaster of her tough life, flooded with galore hindrances. Under the notion of lately it wasn't just seconds, minutes even hours. It has been days since the middle-aged sister of the church was overthinking, besides dithering whether if she should grasp the letter opener in her elvish, smooth hand and slit her wrists or perhaps her throat or otherwise leave it untouched from she took it. Namely her classy obsidian purse in her en-suite bedroom. No other living soul like Frank, Mary Eunice, Carl, Mother Claudia even Timothy, the love of her life, didn't acknowledge her impending intentions.

On one hand, the middle-aged lady dithered to kill herself because once she just takes the sharp object even its honed edge lightly, scarcely brushes her mossy as apricot, milky wrist's flesh, she's far from pigheadedly, radically determined to permit its honed edge of her letter opener pierce even slash though the suicide was a sin. On other hand, the blonde was fearful to do it as her instincts and intuition were convincing her to proceed with living her life even as a nun.

"What shall I do anymore?" The woman of the cloth muffled a jaded whisper by exhaling sharply after playing with her fingers as one of her hands timidly was approaching its letter opener.

Shortly after the razor was in her trembling hands, her honey brown pools lowered to the razor by scrutinizing it as the patients' incessant bewails collided in the dull walls of the asylum which were perfectly normal for any staff member, regardless a security guard, a nun, orderlies even the Monsignor, himself.

Her physical and mental stamina verged to survive since the silver paperknife was already in her hands, balling her fists until a handful of door raps interrupted her train of suicidal thoughts. Through the mosaic door's glass was visible a tall, masculine figure, dressed up in ecclesiastical dark shirt, trousers and blazer hugged his discreetly toned body. Once her gaze met the door's mosaic glass, she left the letter opener directly on her desk by exclaiming plainly:

"Yes, Monsignor? Come in!"

"Hello Jude!" As soon as he entered by opening the door by closing it behind him within seconds later, the blonde couldn't suppress a growing beaming smile on her naturally rosy-coloured lips as they danced its own song of the joy.

"Hello Timothy! I haven't been expecting ya so far. I mean," Suddenly his chocolate brown eyes peeped at the letter opener on her lacquered, hardwood desk by spotting it as she acknowledged his scourge of solicitude predominating on his facial expression he recently wore as a mask. Mask, expressing his true self when it comes up to dangers especially affecting his secret love interest as well. Her heart raced as severely pulsation frequently increased its megawatt intensity of the heart beat. "It's not what it looks like." At last but not least, there were no tracks or piece of evidence for gore even stabbing with the razor, itself. Nonetheless, it left swarm of unanswered questions for the aspiring, juvenile man of the cloth.

What the older woman attempted to do was to conceal what Timothy had on his mind. It was his sixth sense, coercing him she's going to take her own life with that razor, no matter if it resembled pristine or already used for any purposes.

First and foremost, Timothy commenced to wonder why the paper knife was sitting inertly on the desk. Second, what his favorite nun might to do with this sharp, nevertheless exceedingly dangerous and menacing its being life with sinister circumstances when the soul dwells out its mortal body, made of flesh and blood? His third question which whirled as a whirlpool in his train of thoughts was is Jude actually considering the self-harm even suicide as a solution to her own problems even if he knew partly about her grim past via the elder nun, Mother Claudia? Her grim past which was boxed in a Pandora's chest box, full of gloomy and unbelievable mysteries behind her past which developed her character by learning from her mistakes and improving herself as a person. If she was actually, on the contrary, is her past a rational motive to do it? Wasn't it unarguably bland even blunt and impulsive decision of hers to put an end to her precious life? That's he thought eventually.

"Does it looks like somebody has been suicidal, doesn't it?" His mammoth, amusingly warm hand reached down for the letter opener even if the older lady didn't want Timothy to expose the most morbid secret of her. Literally killing herself and ending her endless, soreful pain and lack of love which she endured for ages. His cunning, astute intuition and instincts reminded him something atrocious was looming on the horizon as pre-suicide barriers encircled Jude, trapping her in the hollow of the death's darkness. The sole savior of the hollow and its death's darkness was the love of her life whom she had impure thoughts for a handful of years since the Roman Catholic church bought Briarcliff and turned it in a mental hospital for criminally insane.

"N-No! Timothy, it doesn't even look like," She was cut off in her mid-sentence as soon as he inspected from closer the silver sharp object as he arched momentarily an eyebrow, disapproving her stutter in her utterance. "I just used the letter opener for a message which I received via the mailbox, thanks to Sister Mary Eunice!" The holy woman tried to find a lie to conceal her real motives behind using the letter opener as if she was a little girl who was caught in trouble, thanks to her parents as if Timothy played the role of her parent.

"I don't have any piece of evidence behind the mysterious message you have received from the mailbox, thanks to her, but," He paused by clearing his throat by slamming the letter opener by casting a scrutiny look into her flushed complexion as she chewed her bottom lip in uneasy manner. "The truth is banished from what you are saying. Jude, please, don't do this to yourself at least!"

"What are you thinking I'm doing?" She questioned in mellow voice as he approached her with light, hardly audible for her sensitive ears steps as if a ghost just roamed in her office by fixing her stare on his handsome, doting face which wore doubtless concern, incapable of wiping off it.

"Being suicidal? Jude, please, don't do this," All of a sudden, she yanked the razor again by aiming its honed, silver edge by rolling lightly one of her sleeves to expose slight creaminess of her pale flesh's forearm in front of Timothy's mortified chocolate brown pools by witnessing her pre-death scene which he abhorred to behold with his being. Further, his right hand cut him off as his sentence abided unfinished.

"Timothy, you don't have any idea what it costs me to put an end to this stupid, barren life of mine! You don't even know my story to pity me."

"Jude," All of a sudden, the younger man placed on top of his right hand's shoulder his hand by attempting to soothe her as she dropped accidentally the letter opener in a swift, absentminded motion as if it was oblivious to her, without averting her hazel eyes of his warm chocolate brown eyes, fueled with indisputable benevolence and lovingness as his reassuring, beaming smile was her Achilles' Heel. The clinking sound of the razor fumbling on her office's flooring was overlooked by the both members of the clergy. It sent shivers down her body of sweetness, pleasure and mild embarrassment once she felt his creaminess contacting the rigid, wool habit's fabric which clothed her shoulder. "You aren't supposed to do this. What chimes you to give yourself to the death to finish you to bones for the sin's sake?"

"The pain is timeless. I've tried my best to," His other hand's fingers cupped her chin by tilting her head to meet his gaze without reluctance though her obvious impotent crysis she experienced.

"Jude, my rare bird! Look at me!" The composure of his voice which he possessed was gone as it sounded more commanding, domineering when it came up to his favorite nun's welfare. The delicateness of his fingers caressing her jawline were hypnotizing even spellbinding her even with a single touch of his muscle which contacted or brushed her skin. Without an ado, she obediently followed his instructions by not bickering back. "It would be a shame once if I lose you, my rara avis! You shouldn't punish yourself with this especially being suicidal when I'm here and you have my love."

"Your love?" Her voice was as mellow as velvet when the blonde enquired as he nodded humbly, affirming her words clearly. She couldn't repress her impulse of chewing her bottom lip in coy, girlish manner. What it was indeed quizzical for her was his confession and his attempt to soothe her. She lastly found peace underneath his touch even his honeyed words as they jingled angelic anthems in her ears. "Oh! Timothy, you don't have any idea I've,"

"Shu, shu, shu, Jude! Don't be too fearful! I know what do you actually feel for me, in spite of you try to hide it as well. I know how much you do love me because I love you too!" Suddenly their faces' distance closed abruptly as she inhaled inwardly as his cryptically alluring cologne reached her nose as her tender nostrils flared as the proximity was no longer a gap, looking into one another's eyes with pure love, desire and perhaps unarguable lust. No explaination was necessary for their potent, howsoever, indubitable magnetic bond they have shaped by themselves. Their might chemistry was boiling and boiling as the possibility of chemical equation, despite their slight age gap and somewhat different worldviews, rendered even the greater chance of having a marvelous secret love affair, regardless their took hallowed vows for church, God and religion's sakes. The elder nun's heard molted once Timothy mentioned the word love and opted to reassure her even being beyond touched by his holy kindness for saving her from the worst and most fatal thing she might has ever thought of. Comitting suicide.

"Timothy, you don't have any clue with who actually do you working even together on your Rome dream!"

"Don't make it complicated! I know who you're. You're a spectacular woman with big and golden heart, besides possessing strong and persistent character! Never mistake it with the mistakes of your past. Never and ever!" His berry-coloured, soft lips hardly brushed hers just seconds before sealing his with hers by resiliently silencing her in a melting, loving kiss. The kiss which was a medicament of rescuing her from the pitch-black darkness of her melancholic, lethal thoughts of harming even killing herself. "And that's why I admire you for what you've become, Jude! I love you!" He suddenly pressed his lips against hers as she wanted to withdraw or somewhat resist its taste of love which she might never savor ever in her life until instead of listening to the inner scorching, wrathful God's voice, echoing in her frozen mind, she let herself to relish by sinking profoundly, slowly in the kiss. The both secret lovers shut their eyelids by letting themselves to convey in much different world, tantalizing each other.

In the interim, the head of Briarcliff clasped her arms around his strong, muscular shoulders as he was leaning past her, whereas one of his hands snatched her wimple in a swift motion in no time by tossing it carelessly on the floor which liberated her lion golden ringlet of silken old Hollywood curls to descend down her upper back as the same hand ran its fingers through her long wavy honey hair, combing it by admiring its softness. Jude softly purred with each passing second as their kiss intensified and became more aggressive as his other hand braced her upper back, their wet tongues began dueling against one another though Jude's one won its dominance over his. Thereafter she plugged it in his mouth by deepening the kiss into a French one. Muffled, satin moans escaped their lips between the kiss. Their hearts heavily hammered in their chests. She promptly forgot about the suicidal thoughts at last. The hexing even passionate kiss quickly solved her issue with the suicidal thoughts for which Jude was cocksurely happy.

At last but not least, they broke off the kiss as they withdrew with scarcely an inch their faces, taking their time to admire one another's faces as his hand which caressed her hallowed ringlet of golden tresses shifted down to her shoulder, rubbing it though he wasn't supposed to touch a nun than her face and hands.

"I love you so much, Timothy! You don't have any idea how much you did help me." The blonde fessed as she wasn't capable of escaping the thought of the piece of moment they shared along. Their first romantic kiss. Especially with the man she has always hankered to share it sincerely and personally. Their smiles shone on their gleaming, charming complexions, highlighting its parchment skin tone they possessed, glittering.

"I'm really happy I helped you to overcome your suicidal thoughts, my rara avis! I'd like to hear it once again from you." The younger man's calm tone contrasted his authoritative caption as he wanted to hear her promise of not overthinking even pondering deeply in her rain of thoughts about suicide and self-harm ever again which murderously distresses him. "Promise me you will never think of committing suicide even depressing yourself and thinking about death!"

"I promise!" She nodded modestly her head in agreement, formally confirming his words.


	5. Forbidden Fruit SARANGE

After finishing filming a handful of scenes of Feud as a scene took a couple of hours at least, nonetheless the both shining stars of old school Hollywood joined the limousine altogether as the chauffeur was driving them to the hotel, where they've reserved for themselves a room since their arrival in Los Angeles for filming the remarkable tv series.

The daylight hours have already died as the evening hours dawned with the ocean of twinkling stars in the nocturnal sky and the chattering strangers, who walked down the streets of the crowded city.

Jessica and Susan were seating approximately alongside one another, in spite of the handful of inches which gapped their proximity as well.

The blonde's hazelish-brown eyes were darted out to the car's window, contemplating the night's scenery, admiring its ethereal beauty, although she wasn't very fond of the urban life at all. Howsoever, there was anything to draw her attention visually. Whereas the redhead fixed her waterfall of glossy, curly tresses which cascaded her shoulders as they ideally framed her yet gorgeous complexion for such age.

Something urged the older woman to take the first step though the both women were gleeful when they once filmed along scenes for Feud by bringing them together. On one hand, hesitation enveloped her brittle, vigorously throbbing heart in her chest as she overthought the plotted first step how might affect not only her, but also Jessica as well since they weren't as close as best friends. At least, she felt something instinctively and cordially, sweeping warmness and pride at the thought of their questionable chemistry was readily potent, despite they were both single mothers of already grown up children, who were already family people and gracing the prides of Hollywood with grandchildren.

A couple of unanswered or awaiting response questions flooded the redhead's mind as the essential ones resurfaced as icebergs. For example, their chemistry is as potent as whiskey, inebriating them with more than just platonic thoughts of one another. Then what was the piece of evidence for their potent chemistry?

The second question was actually why these more than platonic thoughts tantalizing her? Third, if the reverie of hers comes true, how may affect their careers and reputation as revered, glamorous actresses? A scandal would befall them, nevertheless, they won't give up especially if their feelings celestially escalate. And at last but not least, is the younger lady feeling the same for the older one as much as her?

In the interval, whilst Jessica pursed her naturally rosy-coloured, well-defined lips in unsettled manner, all of a sudden, the sound of moving up as closing the gap of proximity between the both ladies resurrected impulsive apprehension as pinkness tinted her cheeks with additional swelterness, warming them as her lips momentarily popped up, awaiting her secret love interest to make the first step and to initial the awkward hush, which arched between them.

"Jessica, I wouldn't mind if we share a drink together at the hotel but I don't know about you too." At the moment, Jessica was pinpointed herself in an awkward situation, although Susan's amiable suggestion to share a drink along in the hotel.

In the interim, the younger actress turned to her colleague as a childish, demure smile cradled her lips, shaping an ivory crescent form. Shimmering as the moonlight. Pair of honey brown orbs met another pair of honey, locking up her stare.

At first, the blonde was befuddled, incapable of thinking of rational response for her offer by allowing herself the temporal hush take control over the messed up things by sorting her mind, hence, until a rational utterance lingers on her tongue at last.

She thought about Susan's suggestion after their arrival in the hotel to share a drink and during that time, talking to each other by getting to know each other on personal level. Jessica would strongly agree especially since she found for entertaining and marvelous by associating her recent movie project with somebody, whom she thought she hung the moon, besides laying her eyes on her in the beginning.

"It would be a fantastic idea. Why not?"

"Yeah, not only sharing a drink, but also to get to know each other." Susan's petite, surprisingly warm hand lowered to Jessica's bare knee, subsequently, patting it affably as the both women emitted a tad giggle, tickling the corners of their mouths. "It's going to be a wonderful adventure after spending goddamn hours filming and filming." She resumed her utterance in jeering manner by making her secret love interest cackle, almost unable to control their laughters, in spite of chauffeur's obnoxious disinterest in the both women's conversation which he wasn't involved in. His ultimately attention was rather focused on the driving process until he stopped on a red light by taking a deep breath.

"I can't agree more on the idea of getting to know each other, you know!" Jessica agreed by nibbling on her bottom, plumpish lip coyly as a schoolgirl. Her knees' physical stamina petered out, as a result of the first Susan's touch on different part of her body than just her hands, hair or perhaps porcelain complexion. It unconditionally bewitched her as her witchcraft excellently worked on her in a simple touch, besides the suggestion. "It's going to be fun. Trust me!"

"Only if your shyness is being wiped off your face."

"W-why?" In the meantime, the younger lady posed the question by stammering, struggling to spell each syllable since the older one exposed her genuine feelings and emotions, which cooked inside by being savored cordially outside. Girlish giggle jarred her oral caverns. "Is it just because of,"

"It's not only, because of the blush, naturally tattooed on your face." Smug, mischievous smirk flashed upon the older woman's parchment, milky as snow complexion by scrutinizing from even closer her secret love interest's face and profile, coming to the conclusion there were symptoms of falling in love or at least, the sensation of the hive of butterflies fluttering inside her belly. "Something else tells me there's than just more than shyness, Jess! If you don't mind being called Jess instead of your longer name."

"Sure! You can call me Jess." Jessica bobbed humbly her head by allowing the elder actress address her with her shorter name instead of her longer one. "I'm absolutely alright with being called Jess."

"Do not change the topic, Jess!" The redhead cautioned in velvety as satin voice as she pawed her round, perfectly shaped for her age knee, kneading it on circles by admiring its gracious curve of her thighs which linked with the roundness of her kneecaps. "The shyness doesn't justify what awaits us in the hotel. Huh?" She gamely winked at the blonde as a hoarse chuckle zinged her lips.

"As you say!" Meantime, Jessica felt shivers down her body of sweetness, pleasure and exiguous embarrassment as her cheeks tinted even more pinkish as the pinkish tinge was transforming in a sanguine more. Bashfulness was sketched on her face by shutting tightly her eyelids by allowing the other actress massaging with a thumb her kneecap, imagining the pleasure which electroshocked her body by experiencing a real electroshocking therapy, curing her train of thoughts to cleanse them from personal and career issues which led her to depression at times.

Monotonous, silver-tongued hum buzzed her plumpish lips until the driver of the limo yelled huskily at the both ladies without turning to check them or otherwise he would spiderweb them in the most mortifying moment in their lives by letting his darker side playing his cards right. His voice caught them off guard as they halted doing what they plotted to do.

"Ladies, we're in front of the hotel!"


	6. Forbidden Fruit (2) SARANGE

"Take it easy! Thank you for the drive!" The slightly older woman expressed her gratitude, winking at the driver and Jessica in the same time as it was the driver, who opened prominently the passenger's door, subsequently helping them to get out from the grand, lavish limousine.

"Ladies first!" The younger man winked back at the elder actress, offering her a mischievous, howsoever, affable smile, flashed upon his parchment complexion.

"Thanks! Farewell!" As soon as the both women got from the limo as they have gathered their remarkable items such as their purses. They waved at the chauffeur shortly before returning to his seat and subsequently starting the vehicle's engine, having an utter control over it.

Once the both ladies were accompanying one another in front of the grandiose, tall hotel façade which front door was a feet away from them, distancing them, they directly passed through the double door as the blonde helped her older colleague, pushing the double door first as there was mass of people, wandering the exquisite's state streets in the wee hours of the evening. Variety of facial expressions were painted across their faces whether youthful or senescent. Whether beaming or half-hearted smiles were cradling their lips. Whether grotesque, vivid frowns as grim, vivid memories from the past's darkness or rather, artificial frowns were flourishing on their looks as disappointment, frustration, sorrow, ire or other brewing emotions were actually their real armor. Chattering and buzzing car engines were the dominant sounds in the background.

"You're so kind, Jess!" Susan couldn't repress a girlish, inward giggle, quivering her oral caverns as Jessica joined her as hers was readily bashful by judging her acquaintance which was on low level yet, nevertheless they have a great potential of getting to know better each other and most of all, becoming best friends even having a secret affair extremely soon.

"Aww, you're the one who's kind, Susan! It's just my nature." When the both ladies stepped inside the hotel's lobby, the older actress escorted the younger one as they were heading towards the bar.

"Be careful what you wish for, Jess!" The redhead evoked in jeering manner as she slapped bizarrely, amiably Jessica's shoulder once they entered in the bar. Smug, cocky grin crawled underneath Susan's lips as the bar wasn't crowded at all.

Perhaps the old, good Italian bartender, who has been working double shifts was there, besides 2 young couples and 2 middle-aged men, who were dressed as if they were eventually filthy rich or their background was at least, by judging their careers as businessmen.

"_I'm dancin' solo in the dark on the club floor! I need to let it go! Shake it off stop thinkin' 'bout you! I lose myself in the beat of the drum! Tryin' try-tryin' to forget what you done done!_" Cher's song was recently playing on the jukebox as her eloquent voice chanted.

"Oh my goodness!" The blonde couldn't suppress a demure, quiet chuckle as soon as she heard Cher's song playing in the background and most of all, entering in a bar with Susan and sharing an alcoholic beverage together. In the meanwhile, she earned her secret love interest's leery, immensely inquisitive look, sketched upon her face. Her heart raced as its heart beats pulsated frequently into her sensitive ears.

"What is it, Jess? Is everything alright?" Susan enquired as concern was vomited in her velvety enquiry.

"Yeah, yeah! Everything is alright, Sue! You shouldn't question my giggles. It just happens when I think of somet-" As Jessica verged to resume her cautious, all of a sudden the Italian bartender cut her off curtly as they seated on the high bar leather stools, adjusting their seated positions to feel more comfortable.

"What would you like to order?" The barman posed the question as his moustache curled along with the lip, synchronizing a non-verbal choir.

The bartender, himself, was a man in the beginning of his 50s as he has worked as a barman for 3 decades, besides double shifts lately which was double trouble for him. Grizzled hairs were highlighting his moustaches and his bald head, besides his caramel green eyes were as soft as the warmest sun in the spring. Moreover, his height was 6'2 as his skin tone was mildly tanned, as a result of his nationality background and his lovely, tempting accent.

"Urm, I'd like one Lambay whiskey for me!" The younger actress replied, pointing directly at the compact glassy bottle with Lambay Irish whiskey, standing alongside 2 different whiskeys.

"And one Smirnoff vodka for me, please!" The older one ordered for herself vodka without even using a forefinger to point.

"Okie dokie, ladies! Your ordered drinks will be served within a few minutes." The Italian solemnly promised as he gathered 2 unused yet scotch glasses shortly after taking off from the alcohol raft the both alcohol bottles within seconds only.

"_But honey this is a battle that you haven't won! Torn up, busted, taken apart! I've been broken down, left with a broken heart! But I'm stronger! Strong enough to rise above!_"

"So it amuses me Cher's song is recently playing. What a surprise, Sue!" The younger lady snickered as she absently scratched her scalp with her well-shaped, manicured fingernails as they brushed the top of her head's aureate flowerbed.

"It's part of our tonight's plan, Jess! Besides sharing drinks and a goddamn good shenanigan story!" Suddenly the blonde glanced at the both middle-aged men as their darkened, fiendish orbs were transfixed on the both famous actresses, nibbling on the silken skin of her bottom, plumpish lip, nonplussed. "Jess, would you like to dance with me?"

"Urm, what? What were you saying, Sue?" Jessica abruptly turned to her colleague and secret love interest, pursing her lips.

"Would you like to dance with me?" The redhaired lady heaved a slightly irritated sigh, flaring her lungs as they surged instantly the oxygen. The sinful, sweet, ravishing scent of alcohol reached quickly their nostrils as soon as the barman served the both scotch glasses, pushing them towards his clients, bobbing humbly his head. "Did you ever listen to me?"

"Of course, I did! Wait a second," The blonde noted her scotch glass with the sinful, alcoholic liquor, glimpsing its bronze pigments into her honey brown pools as she sipped it, throughout licking greedily, coyly her lips. "You want us to dance? Just after finishing our drinks?"

"Don't be so anxious, dear! It will be fun. It's just part of the fun. We used to be younger in the bars or somewhere else, getting intoxicated and dancing like cuckoos."

"Well, there's difference between our 20s or probably 30s times and now us as old goddamn hags. It's enormous, Sue!"

"It doesn't changes the fact, you will still have a lot of fun and its part of the memories we collect." In the meanwhile, the older woman swigged a couple of big vodka sips, consequently inebriating her tongue and organs as her body muscles relaxed even electrified once the alcohol entered its dungeon. "Just think about dancing as tipsy gals, bringing these old memories from the old school life we once had! Don't be so modest, Jess! We're still alive and the life is for fun. It's not about limiting our needs."

"_This is a woman's world! This is a woman's world! Tell the truth! This is a woman's world! Tell the truth, this is a woman's world said I'm stronger! Strong enough to rise above! This is a woman's world! This is a woman's world!_"

"As you say!" Meanwhile, the younger woman's fingers were idly playing with her scotch glass, tipping with her frail fingertips as they once contacted the flimsy glass, throughout grasping it as she sipped 2 more sips before licking her damp lips again. Her caramel brown orbs were fixed on the scotch glass after sipping it with ginormous pleasure, oozing from her. "To be honest, I used to be that carefree young woman as I was getting intoxicated at times when I was with company or with Sam. Oh, these good old times, Sue! Believe me, I still memorize them from the first until the last brain cell!" She exhaled sharply as she was beyond elated at the thought of her recollected memories of her younger years as fragments.

"Yeah! Go ahead, dear!" The redhead insisted as she couldn't suppress her significantly blooming smile as a spring flower just after the winter days have already died, resulting the spring's wee days looming on the horizon.

"After sharing a few drinks or at least one, then we went on the dancing floor and we were particularly hilarious as hell. We were dancing as we were tipsy. There were some shenanigans, zinging our lips and on the morning after, we woke up with such such headaches. What great times!"

"I bet!"

After a couple of minutes after the both actresses finished their drinks and drowning themselves in long, rational discussions as they were getting to know each other, the music in the background changed as another song was playing.


	7. Golden Child FRANE

-_ 25th of July, 1970_ -

It has been years after Jude and Frank have left Briarcliff for better or rather accomplishing their celestial dreams for brightening them. Celestial dreams as they were the crucial reasons why the incessant, fond, beatific smiles were cradling their lips. One of the essential reasons why their hearts were melting even blistering of felicity and love. The misery, ire and desolation were oblivious for them or far from familiar feelings for them.

Not only Judy was head over heels in love with the head of security guards even when her criminally potent, inescapable bewitched feelings for the Monsignor, moreover it was Frank's concept for their departure or closing an old, already finished chapter where they were the stern, running with an iron fist nun and the diligent, exceeding responsible security guard, subsequently opening a new chapter in their life as Jude is no longer member of the church, throughout staying at home since she was fond of indoors life, cooking, baking and gardening, whereas Frank works as a security guard of a bank.

A handful of weeks after the former sister of the church and former cop left the madhouse, they got married as they moved in Frank's two-story, aesthetic barn house in Boston's countryside outskirts, in order to live a better life and around the nature. Shortly after their marriage, they had planned their honeymoon in Rome for a week and after their return in Boston from Rome, the middle-aged lady found out she was pregnant as she has delivered the marvelous news to her husband and almost a year later, she successfully gave a birth to a baby girl, naming her Nathalie Summer. It was one of the most divine miracles that have ever happened to her and Frank, although she has lived in a lie for 2 decades for being infertile and empty as barren.

Even when almost a half a decade has passed as swiftly as a summer breeze, the former nun and the former police officer haven't seen the aspiring, nonetheless doubtlessly strong-willed Timothy Howard, who was supposed to be appointed as a Cardinal of New York and afterwards if his achievements were more glorious and prestigious, consequently there are greater chances for him becoming the Pope in Vatican as he shared this dream with his rare bird, becoming the Mother Superior and being encircled by swarm of mere nuns, addressing her with her revered, clerical title and her companion.

Little did the blonde know what's happening with her former love interest's life and most of all, is he already appointed as a Cardinal even Pope? That was one of the essential questions, assaulting her whirlpool of thoughts. Even when she was devoted wife to Frank and mother of Nathalie Summer, she could never forget any facial feature even the pettiest details, highlighting Timothy Howard's face, manners and attitude.

Judy could perfectly recall the irrefutable handsome face with its hypnotizing, warm, benevolent chocolate brown eyes as the warmest chocolate was glinting in them. His luscious berry-coloured lips as they curled at every syllable. His toned, muscled body along with his warm breath, tickling her lips and facial features at every word. His honeyed, British accent. She recalled ideally every petty detail about him.

As today was a common hot summer day, usual for late July, Judy, Frank and Nathalie were at home as the middle-aged lady was teaching her daughter how to bake honey scones, the former police officer was in the grand yard, watering the plants since his wife was busy in the kitchen.

The saturating sun rays dispersed freely through the opened kitchen window, allowing to bath the room in light as the saturating radiance smeared their exposed skins, guarding them from cooler objects and items. The eloquent, elating symphony of the chirping birds outside overspread in the McCann's household, resurrecting the summer ambience.

The both females' hands were baptized in sticky flour as the curious young girl was sitting on the wooden chair, observing her mother by the way she kneaded the round shaped flour with her adroit, slim fingers, thereafter forming floured scones. They were equipped with ordinary clean white aprons as their armors, in order to not muck their garments as under her apron the former sister of the church's slender, still appealing figure was clothed in casual, satin mint sundress, hugging her swan curves.

Nathalie was actually almost a five-year-old kindergartener as she has inherited her mother's features, beside her father's. The young girl possessed her mother's curly lion mane with her button nose, elegant, well-shaped eyebrows, naturally rosy-coloured lips and her petite ears altogether. Nevertheless, what the kindergartener has took after her father was his chestnut hair which he once possessed until it became grizzly with the age, his sapphire blue irises, mingling with hazelish-brown of Judy and his laugh along with his smile. At last but not least, Nathalie has been attending kindergarten for 2 years and she was a quick learner as she has spoken her first word when she was scarcely seven-month-old baby. Even more Nathalie can walk on her own without help and she has already been taught how to ride a bike afterwards.

"Look, Nattie! That's how ya should knead the scones with yar floured hands!" The blonde was leaning against the kitchen table, earning her daughter's immensely, childishly inquisitive look, sketched upon her childish, porcelain complexion as her both tiny hands were barely an inch away from the medium sized untouched floured shapeless scone, nibbling on the silken skin of her rosy-coloured, plumpish lip, listening attentively even if she seemed absent-minded at first sight.

In the meantime, the former nun kneaded with her creamy, milky as snow hands including fingers the shapeless scone, glancing at the kneading process as perspiration layer of dew glimmered upon her forehead, whereas Nathalie followed docilely her instructions without an ado, throughout rubbing the floured scone, fixing her sheepish azure-hazelish pools on the unbaked sweet, licking her upper lip, embolding her to carry on with the process without giving up.

Shortly after the older woman has finished with embrocating the unbaked yet sweet and placing it in the oven with the rest of the raw scones as there were a couple of missing until they're about to be put in the oven and being baked for a several minutes at least, she turned to the brunette, surveying by the way she was kneading the flour and most of all, how well it was. A beaming, proud smile honed up in the corner of her naturally rosy-coloured, dry lips.

"You are doing a great job, honey! Mommy is so proud of ya!" Meanwhile, Judy leant as she pecked an affectionate, delicate kiss on her daughter's temple as she molted in the platonically maternal forehead kiss, relishing the love and attention she was receiving.

"Thank you, Mommy!" The kindergartener expressed her gratitude as smugness enveloped her flimsy heart and thin lips which curled in a smile.

All of a sudden, the sound of slamming front door was sufficiently audible for the both ladies as the middle-aged man was already done with the outdoor task- watering the plants in the sufficiently expansive yard.

"Guess who's back, girls!" Frank cried out gleefully as he strolled up to the kitchen, stepping inside within seconds and planting doting, feather kisses on his daughter and wife's plump cheeks.

"The gardener?" The brunette posed a rhetorical question sarcastically, giggling inwardly to herself as her father pinched playfully his daughter's nose tip with a few pudgy fingers, gazing at his rejoicing face, painted across his slightly wrinkled face.

"Nah, sweetie! Yar Daddy isn't a gardener." He assured her calmly, without repressing the contagious smile and guffaw, quivering his oral caverns as the former holy woman joined them as she was kneading the other shapeless scones before putting them in the tray. At the moment, she exhaled sharply, allowing her nostrils to cleanse naturally as the flour fragrance quickly reached her sensitive nose. "He just needed to water the plants by taking a good care of them."

"Is there a difference between gardening as a hobby or being a real gardener?"

"Of course, my darling!" In the interim, the security guard chewed his bottom lip as he inhaled momentarily the alluring, pleasant scent of flour as it toyed with his nostrils before gathering an empty, unused yet glass from the upper kitchen cabinet and pour some cool, fresh water from the sink. "The gardeners are truly devoted to the plants as that's depending of their efforts without thinking twice, while these people like me and yar mother, we just do it, because we love plants and flowers and we don't do it for somebody else's sake and the money sake. Ya understand, my little bee?"

"Yup, I did!" The brunette replied without hesitancy as she was helping her mother with kneading the rest of the scones.

"That's good! After you finish with the scones, we can go swim in the nearest lake altogether, okay?"

"Yeah, Daddy! I want to swim in the lake!"

\- _A Few Hours or So_ -

After the McCann family have finished with baking honey scones, thereafter they prepared themselves as their undergarments were replaced with swimsuits, besides setting a wooden basket with honey scones, mineral water bottles, some lemonade, empty glasses, pair of sunglasses, picnic basket and sunhats, in case, if the sweltering sun's heat damages even hurts their heads.

As soon as the former cop parked his cab nigh the shore, throughout the both adults set the picnic blanket along with the rest of the luggage on their short journey on the lake with their daughter Nathalie.

Whilst Judy was tanning under the sweltering sun rays, allowing to contact and getting a suntan, Frank was escorting their little sweet ray of sunshine to the mist, howsoever, unarguable aesthetic glimmering its genuine colors. He was accompanying her in the water, aiding her for additional piece of advice in swimming, in case, if she struggles or starts to drown, losing control.

"Come on, cupcake! Do you want to jump backward?" Frank enquired kindheartedly his daughter as a childish, content grin danced across her tiny, rosy-coloured lips.

"Yeah, Daddy!" The brunette squealed as if she was on cloud nine as he ushered her to step on his round knees, subsequently kindly lifting her in the air until he throws her backward in the lake.

Meantime, while Frank and Nathalie were having fun in the aesthetically hazy waters of the lake, at the moment, the former woman of the cloth unbuckled her bikini's wine red top, consequently discarding it on the picnic blanket as the swimsuit top attire was no longer a pressure for her, allowing ultimately her still perfectly shaped, full, round breasts rest as they were being tanned, heaving a half-hearted, absent sigh, flaring her brittle lungs as its oxygen surged promptly.

All of a sudden as the middle-aged man and the child were swimming in the lake, he casted a flabbergasted gape at his wife, whose petite frame wore nothing than her bikini bottom as his mouth salivated, licking greedily, gamely his lips as his heart vigorously hammered in his ribs as the heavy heart beats pulsated into his ears. Heavy heart beats' pulsation into the ears as his daughter's childish, jubilant voice was oblivious for him with their encompassing surroundings especially his.

"Hold on for a sec, sweetie!" He encouragingly cautioned Nathalie, patting amiably her shoulder as he was about to step out of the lake, swimming back to the shore.

"Okay, dad!"

"Judy? Darling?"

"Huh? Frank? What the hell are ya doing here, honey?" She removed her sunglasses for awhile as their gazes met, locking up his flabbergasted one as her lip curled in the inquiry.

"I didn't want to sound arrogant or something but why are ya topless? I mean, Nattie would be embarrassed to see her Mommy with her bare tits on the shore." On one hand, the security guard was mildly exasperated his wife was topless on the shore and the sight was readily embarrassing especially for strangers, who occasionally love the outdoor adventures and suddenly behold her topless. Whilst, on other hand, it ethereally affected his male anatomy especially his manhood as it wasn't as soft as he entered in the lake once, subsequently hardening due to the explicitly graphic image of his almost naked spouse.

"Chill down, sweetie!" Careless, joyful snicker left her lips as autumn breeze, nibbling on her bottom, plumpish lip in seductive manner. "I'm just tanning my breasts. Can't I?"

"Darling, I get ya but if somebody even a stranger sees ya like that, wouldn't ya be embarrassed?"

"Who cares? We're at the shore and nobody is going to give a damn whose wife's breasts are being tanned under the hot sun. And let's not forget, Nathalie is totally okay with that, because I'm her mother."

"Oh yeah, yeah! That mommy thing. At least, ya are lucky, we don't have a son, because it would be much worse." The former policeman couldn't suppress a snigger as the both adults glimpsed at the little girl, who gawked at them, without having any clue what they were discussing at the moment. "Especially if he has mommy issues!" He resumed his utterance without controlling his hysterical guffaw, earning the leery, murderous glare of the blonde, casted at him directly as a piercing arrow.

"Frank! Watch what are ya saying. Our daughter could hear us."

"At least, she is too young to understand what these are mommy issues." In the meanwhile, the former police officer heaved a sigh, slapping lightly his forehead as Judy's face softened.

"We're lucky for that!" In this moment, they contemplated how their daughter was swimming on her own without an adult escorting her in the lake as she didn't struggle with anything, fortunately. "Look at our girl! Nathalie is a special girl!"

"Not only a special girl, but also a golden child!" Radiant, blissful smiles distorted across the middle-aged parents' lips as they didn't avert their stares from the young girl, who was an excellent swimmer for almost five-year-old girl. Frank was sitting on the picnic blanket as his both strong, muscular arms were snaked around Judy's waist as her both petite, warm hands were cupping his, cocking her head back as it was buried in the crook of his neck.


	8. High School Romance NUNSIGNOR

Judy has never had any luck with the representatives of the opposite sex as they were either showing in peculiar way how they liked her with the jeering, wry bullies or rather bullying her for being an introvert even a different girl from the others. Nonetheless, the young lady has always been a decent student with decent grades and extraordinary discipline until she moved in high school and the adventurous, dynamic roller coaster begun. Roller coaster as she met even hanged out with one of her classmates, who was nothing than a kindhearted, unarguably intelligent, caring and open-minded gentleman. It was Timothy Howard, himself, of course!

Her new male classmate's background was actually aristocratic as he was a British compatriot as his family originated from London as he moved with his parents in Boston, Massachusetts, due to family problems as Timothy's mother, Anna, has always problems with her son's aunt, who was the core of the incessant and unbearable scandals. Boston was his new home for 10 years as the adolescent was nowadays seventeen-year-old.

When Jude and Timothy were getting to know one another with the advancing time as students, they became momentarily fond of one another especially the young man as he could behold behind the mask of the beautiful blonde a heartbroken, isolated, misunderstood and humble girl. Girl, who was much different and a vibrant contrast, compared to her peers as she was wise, mature, loving her single mother even when they had conflicts at times, in fact, her mother, Hazel, was a housekeeper in a hotel.

Moreover their families knew personally each other shortly after the blonde was already a high schooler and developing intensifying, spellbinding feelings for her British classmate. The both teenagers' parents were not only extraordinary acquaintances, further, best friends for years as they have helped each other a lot and they've supported one another in the toughest times.

Once the native Bostonian was spending more time with her secret love interest, the more her grades aggravated, as a result of her lacking efforts in studying and spending a quarter a day reading the textbooks at least. Sometimes she verged to fail some classes such as Math and Science, however, thanks to her fewest best friend, consequently, on every impending test he allowed her to copy the answers from him without being caught by the professor.

Even when the bullies were opting to jeer at Judy, whether the platonic bond were ignoring them or Timothy confronted them as the rumors about their romantic relationship was already spread the word in the entire class.

As today was a common spring day as Judy and Timothy were having Math class with Frank, who was teaching them geometry for their level since they were 11th graders. The both students, who caged their own bewitched feelings of each other in their hearts, were seating exactly alongside one another on the last desk to the wall as their class was around 20 people only, reckoning them.

Whilst the juvenile lady was crossing her nubile legs under her desk, playing absently with her pen as Frank's teaching method sounded like blathering as he was explaining one of the theorems, gawking glassily, jadedly the black board as her hazelish-brown orbs were fueled with unconditional fatigue and absenting enthusiasm as the darkest nuances pigmented her irises, the British emigrant was nibbling on his pen tip, hardly salivating it as his other solely free hand was pawing the desk, his fingertips tipping idly the hardwood, old material. His chocolate brown irises glistened hoary tinges as they were like already read book with its spread pages. Boredom, perhaps mild exasperation and weariness were brewing like potions, pouring its somber pigments in the eyelids as the extra ounce was cementing them.

Their youthful, fresh complexions grimaced as grotesque, vacuous frowns cradled like hammocks in the most sweltering summer days their plumpish, motionless lips.

All of a sudden, Timothy's mammoth, pale as ghost hand lowered from the desk to his classmate's perfectly shaped, round kneecap as his long, pristine fingers kneaded gingerly, lightly the ebon, thin, elegant stockings which were clothing her legs as its black garters kept its worn stockings' length, without cascading even an inch.

Shivers grazed the blonde's body muscles and bones as her knees were weakening gradually, due to the casted spell of his enticing, most feather touch. In the meantime, Judy's cheeks tinged sanguinely as muggy heat crawled underneath her plump, well-defined cheeks' facial skin. The blonde couldn't suppress ducking her head bashfully, attempting to focus at class even when the enthusiasm ebbed naturally in the thin air like star's impermanent twinkle in the nocturnal, pitch-black sky.

"W-What are ya doing?" The girl enquired sheepishly as her lip curled as her glimpse followed the motion of the fingers, massaging her kneecap as her heart raced. "Timothy?" She tried to earn his attention even if he was playing it silly, pretending to overlook her.

"N-Nothing!" Timothy excused himself, nibbling on the silken skin of his bottom, berry-coloured lip uneasily as he sensed his secret crush was going to expose one of his secret thoughts he had of her. An abashed, humble smile was tattooed on his face as a contrasting context can be read, by judging its shape and hues. "I'm bored at Math class." He resumed his exclaimation as he whispered softly past her ear as the Math teacher has already finished with explaining one of the theorems, now chalking on the white board a geometry figure, puncturing its angles symmetrically.

"Who isn't, Tim?" In the interval, Judy took a deep breath in velvety voice as she was mumbling to her favorite classmate since she didn't want the Math teacher get them in trouble and persuade either of them to being transmitted on other students' desk without causing pother. "Ugh, I don't know how we will survive a half an hour more until the end of the-" As the young woman verged to carry on with her sentence, suddenly after Frank noted the platonic bond prattling during Math class, shooting a piercing, scorching glare at the both students on the last bureau.

"Hey! Judy move on the first seat in the middle column so that to observe ya even better what are ya doing during my classes!" In the interim, the rest of the class's searing prying gawks were darted to the platonic bond as some of their peers guffawed, tickling the corners of their mouths as the blonde and her friend's hearts sunk, whilst their bile rose up in their throats in the same time. Perhaps barbarous chagrin, embarrassment and disquietness were brewing and cooking inside the teenagers as a cauldron with toxic liquid. Their smiles pottered off their complexions as the brief moment of intimacy or the delicate touch couldn't compensate the middle-aged man's criminal ill humor. "Immediately!" He insisted emphatically as salty dew of moistness pooled the young lady's eyelids as bitter tears bordered on to spring up in her frail eyelids, consequently allowing its tears to tumble down her cheeks.

"But Mr. McCann, we were just whispering!" The juvenile blonde opted to defend herself, hemming as she was struggling to spell the syllables, factly, the moment was as awkward as engendering nonplussing for her even for Timothy, himself.

"Mr. McCann, please! She did nothing wrong to draw attention or something." Even Timothy attempted to confront the older gentleman, standing for his crush without any doubts and intentions of betraying her or being turned against her.

"Shut up, Timothy! I haven't asked yar word or council." Frank bared his ivory, still firm teeth for his midlife episode of his life as he took from the cherry bureau the exquisitely polished teaching stick, thus slapping it violently on the bureau, causing the majority of the seventeen-year-olds to flinch with exception of a handful of students. "Look what miss Judy, when I saw immediately, immediately means immediately! Am I clear?"

"Mhm!" Meantime, Judy bobbed her head in distressed, bashful manner as she gathered her own textbook, notebook and school bag with herself, getting from the desk which she was sharing it with her secret love interest and strolling up, slowly distancing from Timothy, because of the stern teacher, pouting her lips.

"Do not waste the class's time! Ya have been so naughty student lately. Not only a naughty one, but also an absent-minded and whispering sweet secrets with yar classmate Timothy as that's why you can't focus on my classes and instead, the trouble becomes double." The middle-aged man slapped the stick once again so that to startle his rebellious student, huffing.

"The heck is wrong with this doited teacher?" Judy muttered, scowling as soon as she seated on the first desk in the middle column, setting her school items, chewing her bottom lip as it curled in the mutter, eyeing blankly the recent notes which she has scribbled in her Math notebook.

"What the hell did ya say, Judy? Huh?"

"Ah, nothing, Mr. McCann?"

"One more complaint or baloney and ya will be sent to the principle's office for misbehaving in Math class. It's not just for today, but these boyfriend and girlfriend whispers aren't my thing in Math class. Just do it during the small breaks or out of school but not during my classes and causing turmoil!"

In the meantime, the blonde kept her tongue behind her teeth as she was playing absently with her pen, glimpsing at Timothy, whilst Frank was punctuating with chalk one more geometry figure, commencing to dictate the imminent theorem which the students should scrawl in their notebooks within seconds.

The truth was Judy and Timothy detested the school subject and their Math teacher, who was often putting the blame on either of them for mumbling to one another during his classes since he's their Math teacher for almost 3 years and noticed a drastic plummet in Judy's marks on his discipline.

A handful of minutes later, the juvenile lady could no longer bear the ennui which built its barriers in her heart and she wanted to find the perfect excuse to flee Math class, pretending either having a painful period or having the urgent need to visit the female restrooms in no time.

"Excuse me, teacher?"

"Yes, miss?" The older man haughtily enquired without turning his back as he was writing on the blackboard the first task for today's class.

"Can I go in the restroom? It's very urgent." The female student exclaimed stoicly as she was pretending to have a bladder, taking notes in her notebook about the recent task as her lip curled in the exclaimation.

"So the rebel, who whispered to her boyfriend and cause disturbance in my class is now wanting to go in the restroom, because it's urgent? What an irony, Miss! Go quickly!" He swatted with his mammoth, veiny hand, maneuvering her to flee the classroom for a while as a smug, malicious grin cradled her lips.

A handful of minutes after the young woman excused herself exceedingly to use the ladies' restroom as soon as she left the portable toilet cabinet, all of a sudden as her petite, creamy as cream hand met the doorknob, subsequently twisting it, she took a few steps outside the portable toilet cabin until her caramel brown pools were met with a masculine, tall figure stood behind the restroom's shut and locked door.

At first, the girl startled as humongous shock and speechlessness enveloped her heart, biting her lip demurely as her caramel brown irises met the chocolate brown as he was slowly approaching her, his shoes clicking against the tiled flooring. She swallowed hard, when abundance of questions flooded her mind without instant answers.

First and foremost, what her crush was doing in the ladies' restroom? The second question is how he excused himself from Math class since he's perpetrator in causing trouble, besides her? At last but not least, what are his intentions?

"T-Timothy? W-What are ya doing here?" The young lady posed the question, stuttering as she lowered her stare to the tiled flooring, eyeing idly.

"I didn't want to be in Math class as this teacher is annoying every ounce of my body!" At the moment, he took one of the elvish, milky as vanilla hands into his larger, secure ones, squeezing it tightly as she glanced girlishly, sensing electrifying. "I hate not only Maths, but also the teacher, who separates us almost every time just because we whisper during his classes."

"Is that the only reason why ya are here?"

"No!" In the meanwhile, his other colossal, surprisingly warm hand cupped her chin with a couple of fingers, tilting her head to meet his piercing gaze as the alluring scent of flowers coated her lion mane of glossy curly tresses as they cascaded her upper back, framing ideally her angelic, porcelain face as her trembling hands reached up for his well-shaped cheek, cupping it in the palm of her hand. "Judy, you are the only reason why I'm here and why I'm going to school with enormous pleasure and a shining smile on my face."

"I'm honored to hear that. Don't ya know how happy am I every time whenever I'm at school? You are the only reason why I'm still happy and this smile of mine hasn't being wiped off my face." Afterwards his fingers drifted up to her cheekbone, tracing it featherly with a thumb, kneading it gently. "I've never been that happy ever in my life, ya know?"

"I'm pleased to hear it I'm making you happy, because you deserve it. But Judy, I don't know how to say it," Meanwhile, his warm, mint breath tickled her facial skin as her eyelids fluttered shut for a split second as he tucked stray aureate tresses behind her tiny, sensitive ear. "We've have been friends for years except classmates and you have been always my ray of sunshine even if it was in platonic way. And I've something to confess."

All of a sudden, she opened abruptly her eyelids, meeting his chocolate brown orbs as she nibbled on the silken skin of her rosy-coloured, upper lip, thereafter licking it reluctantly as her heart leaped. Perhaps agitation enveloped her heart to hearken his confessions as she had some remarkable ones for him.

"What are yar confessions, Timothy?"

Seconds before the beginning of his monologue, the British compatriot took a deep breath, then clearing his throat as he played with her halo ringlet of old Hollywood, silky gilt curls, twirling in his fingers, admiring its crispy softness of her dazzling hair.

In the interval, Timothy took his time to sort his mind as he yearned more than anything to make revelations, he hadn't made since he laid eyes on her since the first moment. What the British emigrant wanted was to overthink rationally what kind of confessions to fess to his secret love interest without disappointing her or rather, not comprehending its literal context.

"You know, we've been friends and I know you love me, despite you have hidden it, because I awfully love you and you are a rara avis, Judy! Moreover, you're the reason why I'm smiling and I've always loved you, no matter as a friend or a crush, besides concealing the arcane, damned feelings I've for you not just for weeks. For months and for years. You don't have any clue how much you did change my life, rara avis!" At the moment, the young man scooped his crush in a warm, melting embrace as her face was buried in the crook of his neck, attempting to not admire as much as possible his ravishing cologne, taunting her sensitive nostrils.

"It's true I love you and I've stored these feelings deeply inside me for ya, because I feared of that you will reject me and ya will think me of a lunatic!" The female student molted in the scooped hug as her lips scarcely brushed the satin skin of his neck, faintly, tenderly kissing them as his chocolate brown pools widened once they broke off the hug, taking their time to admire one another's beautiful faces. "I have never loved anyone as much as ya, Timothy! You are a special boy and you're not only kind, loving and caring, further, you're unarguably handsome." A beaming, beatific smile flapped its corners across her lips as grand, sacred angelic wings, fixing her honey brown eyes on his handsome face, cupping his cheeks in the palms of her hands yet. "Could ya explain to me what does rara avis means?"

"It means rare bird in Latin as that's the perfect compliment for the most beautiful and most kindhearted girl in this world." In the interim, his both hands were pawing her slim waist as his fingers kneaded the thin shirt uniform's fabric, admiring the swan curves as their faces were barely an inch from each other as he removed one of his mammoth, smooth as velvet hands from her waist as the thumb brushed her bottom lip, seconds before closing the gap and sealing his soft, luscious lips with hers in a harder, sultry kiss as it was his first time being in a romantic relationship with a representative of the opposite sex as Judy was his first girlfriend. "I love you, rare bird!"

"I love you too, sweetie!" In the meantime, they closed the gap as Judy pressed her lips on his in a hardening, soft kiss as she moved her both hands to his dark hair, running her fingers through it as their eyelids were clutched shut tightly, relishing their first real romantic moment as their hearts raced as the same hand of Timothy shifted down to her waist, lifting her up as his both hands momentarily grabbed her small buttocks, placing her on the marble sink as he spread her legs. Shortly after setting her on the sink, his hand kneaded her rear, whereas his other one moved under her skirt as his long, pristine fingers rubbed through her ordinary white panties' fabric her already drenched folds as they were screaming for being teased by masculine fingers.

In this moment, the women's restroom turned out to be love nest battlefield especially for the 11th graders as Timothy didn't want to disappoint when their kisses grew more ferocious as he was virgin, himself, and he didn't know how to kiss ideally a female even when he knew a couple of tricks how to please her. Muffled, soft moans and groans zinged the Bostonian's damp lips as she whispered between the kiss and the moan.

"Don't worry, sweet boy! Even if ya are a virgin, be natural what ya feel exactly at the moment! Trust your instincts and fantasies!" A velvety, coy giggle heaved her throat as her tongue tip brushed his upper lip, ushering him to keep on and duel his wet tongue as their tongues started their duel until hers won domination, subsequently plugging it into his mouth, deepening into a French kiss as her both hands slithered down to his shirt's uniform, undoing a couple of buttons, encouraging him as his lips slipped from her lips slowly mildly salivating her jawline until they peaked to her neck as she cocked back her head, giving him a better access to her pale neck as he still teased her wet folds, arousing his tight crotch.

"Oh sweet Jesus! You're incredible! Don't stop it!" One of her hands lowered under her skirt as she took his larger hand, consequently yanking her lower lingerie until it pooled her ankles as his fingers could finally tease her hard clit, rubbing it on circles.

"You're driving me crazy, girl!" Meanwhile, her face was all flushed when he used his ivory teeth to nibble on the silken skin of her delicate neck as then he peppered feather, light kisses on it until he used one of his hands to undo her shirt's buttons. The young woman spread promptly wider her long, drop dead gorgeous legs as soon as Timothy got rid off her skirt, being discarded on the tiled flooring along with their shirts as her bra, panties and black stockings were the sole garments which hugged her small frame. In Timothy's case, his boxers and slacks were clothing certain inches of his larger frame.

Their muffled even louder moans and groans floated in the restroom's background as everything else especially their surroundings and passing students or teachers in the abysmal, long hallway were readily oblivious for the young adults.

After Timothy teased his girlfriend's hard clit with a couple of fingers even a thumb as he pinched it, throughout he cupped one of her breasts as his lips were already scooping her erected, tiny mauve nipple, circling his wet tongue around the areola, using his teeth to nibble it aggressively, relishing the erotic moment as the young lady yearned more than anything feeling his hard manhood inside her core as their skins unite as one.

"Oh fucking Christ, Timothy! I want ya already inside me." Her emotional, soft plea was vomited in a murmur, chewing her bottom, plump lip as she ran her fingers all over his toned muscles and abs, admiring his muscularity. "Tell me something sweet and pretty! My folds are already ready to contract your hard rock cock as walls inside me!"

"Oh Jesus Christ, Judy!" Then he moved his lips back to hers, capturing them in a soft kiss until her petite, milky as snow hand drifted down to his erected member, positioning at her entrance, licking greedily her own lips, seconds before capturing his, opening her eyes to meet his stare, seconds before his thrusts begin as she took her time to admire his fascinating facial features. "You're the sexiest and the prettiest girl I've ever laid eyes on! You have no idea!"

"Whenever ya are ready, fuck me!"

Suddenly his first slow thrust monotonously startled as they were painful for the native Bostonian as sore groans echoed her oral caverns, closing tightly her eyes as eyelids momentarily until the thrusts were swifter even less painful, mustering up with the pace which quickened as she dig her manicured in bright red nails, medium-sized into his back, scrapping it as one of his hands grasped her pelvis, whilst her both legs were clasped around his shoulders and his free hand still cupped her breast, teasing its erected nipple. His darkened chocolate brown irises were glued on her fevered face as perspiration baptized their temples, faces and flesh.

"Oh fuck!" A handful of thrusts remained until they reached their climaxes which were building and cooking in their sexes. "You're so tight, rare bird!"

"Ya are even harder, because of me!"

"Oh Jesus, my sexy beast!" Suddenly they reached their climaxes as he flumped on her bare chest as they emitted joyous chuckles after making love to each other in the restroom. "I love you very much! I didn't expect you to be virgin especially for me."

"Ya know my story as I saved my virginity for ya! I love you too, Timothy!"

"As for homework ya should do," All of a sudden the classroom's door opened, creaking as Jude and Timothy were back from the restroom just a few minutes before the school's bell ring, signalizing the students for marking the end of the current class. "Oh! Judy and Timothy! What a surprise for getting back just seconds before the end of this lesson!" The middle-aged man rejoined, pursing his lips as he turned to the juvenile adults as they earned sea of flabbergasted and shocked faces, sketched upon their classmates' complexions with their arrival in the end of the Math lesson, followed by taunting, sarcastic laughters, bursting out as dynamites in the room as the teacher opted to silence them. "Shu, shu, there's nothing funny to laugh at such disgraceful students like Judy Martin and Timothy Howard! I don't know yet if it's a good idea to phone their parents but it's going to happen very very soon." He finished his caution, emphasizing the word soon.

"Look at these young birds in love! I'm still wondering what reeks of the female restroom as I can judge their happy faces." One of the most prying classmates in the class, Rachel, giggled inwardly to her best friend, Lisa as they didn't avert their provocative gawks at them.

"I can think of only one thing. Sex!" Rachel replied in honeyed voice as the both girls chuckled.

"Hey, girls! Stop talking! I'm giving yar goddamn homework." Frank tried to earn the both talkative girls' attentions, during the end of his class. As he commenced to scribble on the black board with the chalk the exercises which the students should for the forthcoming Math class on the day after, the bell rang in the corridors of the grandiose, austere façade. "Class dismissed and have a nice day!"

What the British compatriot and the native Bostonian experienced as a mixture of closure and romance was more than overwhelming for them since they have never been that scintillatingly head over heels as they thought of each other they hung the moon, besides their essential quest was their confessions and uniting along not just as platonic bond, but also as a romantic one. Opening a new chapter in the story about their boundless, potent bond with its brilliantly great potential and taking the further step in their relationship. They were already on cloud nine just a handful of minutes after leaving the female restroom and most of all, before the end of Math class, one of their least favorite school subjects where the boredom was their vice.


	9. The Power of Promises (1) NUNSIGNOR

The same night, when the exorcism took its place behind the walls of the most notorious madhouse, situated in Boston, the recent deceased committed patient or rather possessed by the Satan and its fiendish, somber venom was Jed Potter. The seventeen-year-old adolescent, whose possession was still arcane even shortly after his unpredictable death as he did unspeakable things such as bloviating in fiendish, deep voice, skinning the corpses of the barn animals. Furthermore, the exorcism didn't help with anything else as 3 devotional members of the church and a doctor were involved in and their efforts were as great as the false hopes for rescuing his soul as its devil and his contagious essence enveloped it in its hypodermic plague.

Shortly after the nun broke the news for the Potters about their deceased son via a heart attack, they couldn't help but mourn over his fresh death and pray for his heart out. Even one more victim of the exorcism was in the infirmary, in fact, the juvenile protégé of her mentor, Jude, fainted, just moments before the death overtakes the possessed young man and his entire being, despite Dr. Thredson's efforts to give him a couple of CPRs, the scared and bland prayers of Timothy. As soon as Judy broke the news to the Potters about their passed away son, she paid a visit to the infirmary, to check her favorite sister of the church and spending a quarter an hour, murmuring a recite of a prayer for her soul after the incident.

An hour later, the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer was in her austere, dim light office, all alone with her befuddled train of thoughts, common loneliness for lacking a male company to comfort her and prejudices. Not only the mourn over the smitten teenager was one of the issues, agonizing her cells and being incapable of thinking clearly, factly, he called her a whore and a murderer and these words imprinted in her mind as recollected memories. Nevertheless, the thirty-year-old lady hoped for more than anything her love interest, Timothy, to not hear them. If he has heard either of these words or the both altogether, on the contrary she would expect ocean of questions or the coarsest thing of all rejecting her since it has been 2 years they've known one another with his arrival and turning the former tuberculosis hospital in a madhouse for criminally insane, besides he has chosen her as his own right hand and calling her a rara avis. Little did the blonde know whether if he has heed them unintentionally or purposely as it might affect their relationship, changing it significantly on 360 degrees.

The wool, conservative clerical wimple was already casted off her head, no longer coiffing her released lion mane of flossy old Hollywood aureate tresses as they freely piled up on her shoulders when she was sitting on the cherry wood bureau of hers, covering her tear-stained face in her both elvish, sweltering hands, ducking her head and sobbing quietly to herself.

Perhaps insomnia and a vague headache agonized her at the moment as she abstained to crawl in the bed by wearing nothing else than her ravishing red negligee as Jed has exposed her past and thereafter addressing her with the abominable words with which she was portrayed.

All of a sudden, a mere door tap snapped her out of her train of thoughts, crying out loud in half-hearted, jaded tone without removing her hands from her covered face as little did she know who was paying a visit to her office in the wee hours of midnight.

"Y-Yes? Come in!" The holy woman insisted until her office door squeaked as it was opened by Timothy Howard, the twenty-seven-year-old man of the cloth, consequently shutting the door behind him.

"Good evening, rare bird!" Her sobs subdued, due to the fact, the older woman wanted to conceal the circumstance she was sobbing and weeping. In the meanwhile, his velvety, British accent emphasized the common nickname for her as a benevolent, boyish smile distorted across his berry-coloured lips, walking up to her desk and seating against her, noting something leery behind her covered face in the palms of her drenched hands. The younger man opted his best to not admire her ethereal, unarguable beauty as her ruffled halo ringlet of gilt curls were hardly tipping the desk, transfixing his warm chocolate brown pools on her as the warmest chocolate glistened into his, filled with sheer concern.

"Good evening again, Timothy!"

"Is everything alright, Jude?" The priest was concerned more than anything for his rara avis by judging her vulnerable, almost helpless condition even if he hasn't acknowledged whether if she has sobbed or being vexed by judging her suspicious tone, arousing his humongous inquisitiveness to discover and figure out the paradoxal mysteries behind her masked demeanor right away.

"Not at all." The blonde confessed as the confession curled along with her lips in a choir, motioning, removing her hands from her porcelain, youthful complexion so that to give a piece of evidence to her love interest her current condition was vibrantly contrasting the blissful smiles that honed up in the corner of her lips and leaping hearts every time whenever they were beholding and encountering one another since they were madly in love with one another. Howsoever, the church and celibacy were the crucial ordeals, refraining them from making romantic revelations and most of all, being nothing than a platonic bond for now. "But ya don't need to question everything."

"Rare bird, look! I'm concerned about you and everything that surrounds you. Just tell me right away what bothers you!" The suddenness of the sniffles escalated as they floated in her austere, unwelcoming office, tucking absently a couple of stray honey tresses behind her petite, sensitive ear, meeting his piercing, reassuring gaze as her hazelish-brown irises were encircled by puffy, reddish as his heart ached to behold her in such despaired condition.

"The possessed dead boy!"

"I completely understand that his death was so spontaneous and arcane and I'm totally alright with the circumstance of grieving over that." The British compatriot got from his seat, ambling up to Jude as his oxfords clicked against the cemented flooring, leaning to cup her tear-stained cheeks in the palms of his mammoth, surprisingly warm hands, locking up her caramel brown pools as a thumb wiped off the poured crystal, salty tears on her face. "Jude, I care about you! Is that the only thing that troubles you even if my heart is broken to see you with a sad look on your face?" Meantime, the older lady's heart melted as soon as he mentioned he cares about her as her sniffles continued monotonously.

"Ya don't have any idea what he called me and the word is absolutely an incarnation of what I'm actually."

"He called you a whore?" In the interval, the blonde affirmed his words, nodding her head humbly as his thumb incessantly wiped off the tumbling tears. "Jude, you aren't a whore or whatever he associates you with the dreadfulness! You've always been a strong, kind, intelligent and amazing woman. The demon lies about you."

"Timothy, ya don't have any clue what it hurts me except this!"

"Is it had to do with the exorcism or Briarcliff?"

Little did the Monsignor know what else was bothering right hand, besides the atrocious words which were directly addressed to her during the exorcism and mortifying each bone and muscle of her body with electrifying shame and disgust. Disgust and shame from the former character, she used to be a protagonist or a main character in her past life before joining the church and taking the solemn vows, in order to purify herself as once a sinner and a wild huntress of the alcohol, one-night stand lovers and lust. The obnoxious, non-beneficial formula for numbing the pain of her past and the numerous heartbreaks she has been through along with loneliness and misery.

The truth eventually was today just before the exorcism, Father Malachi has talked in private with Judy's mentor, Mother Claudia for abolishing the young lady from the dull, sinister walls of the mental hospital, throughout transmitting her to the Fallen Hopes' institution, well-known for the nuns and priests, who are being housed there for breaking their vows and leeriness oozed of them, located on a small island of Boston. Far away from her love interest. Far away from her favorite employee Frank. Far away from her favorite senseless sister of the church, Mary Eunice. Nonetheless still being guided and mentored by Mother Claudia. Furthermore, the former licentious nightclub singer figured out she should say farewell earlier than the morning after to her favorite priest as she should shortly after coming to her senses to gather her luggage, stored up in her suitcase, containing her remarkable, unique paraphernalia and attires, to flee the facility without an ado.

Moreover, the elder members of the church weren't delighted to behold their protégés' frequent interaction, sensing prejudices behind their platonic even discreetly intimate bond as they were more than determined to plot the abolishment of Judy from the former tuberculosis hospital as she was falsely framed for breaking her vows. She hasn't even being intimate with her boss.

"No! Mother Claudia and Father Malachi have discussed something that is going to severely influence our interactions. I'm going to be transmitted in another institution in Fallen Hopes on the following morning."

"Oh no! They can't do this to us." Eventually Timothy was beyond immensely livid, due to the fact their mentors were as relentlessly disquieting as their radical, emphatic decisions of separating the young with great potential couple. Perhaps spleen and melancholy were brewing and cooking inside the both juvenile members of the clergy as venomous potions. "I promise I'll return back for you or we will somehow unite together again. But I've something for you which I couldn't help but give it as piece of memorable items to have, thinking about me." Meanwhile as Timothy scooped his favorite nun in a warm, tight, in fact to alleviate each other, absorbing mutual warmness as their hearts both and sunk over their eventual, remorseless rupture, plotted by Mother Claudia and Father Malachi, who weren't keen fans of the sudden, flabbergasting change in their relationship as they verged to be even lovers or at least potential lovers. At the moment, the younger man's nostrils couldn't resist the ravishing fragrance of Judy's hair as flowers' aroma taunted his nose, unable to resist and admire its aroma.

When the both pious members of the clergy broke off the hug as Judy's sniffles subdued in the vacuum, the British compatriot took from his charcoal black trousers' pocket an enveloped and rolled in scroll shape message and a golden, small, brilliantly shimmering its goldest pigments ring as Judy's hazelish-brown eyes were embraced with the overwhelmingly satisfying presents for her as crystal, bittersweet tears welled in her eyes, staining her porcelain, pale as ghost complexion all over again.

"Are these for me?" In the interim, she unrolled the enveloped message after removing its velvet crimson envelope, consequently scanning in a quick eyeing the message, dedicated to her as Jude mumbled distressed.

"Yes, my rare bird! They're for you. Only and just for you!"

_Dear Jude,_

_I haven't always had the courage to write a message, dedicating it to you but finally my courage plucked up suddenly. I've always had these intensifying and still pure feelings of you, no matter what the passions and impulsive instincts persuade us to do otherwise. Nonetheless, stay strong and no matter everything, I'll never allow the separation apart us and to be part of our lives. Even if you're being conveyed to another institution, I strongly promise you I'll come back for you, because I love you and you're my rare bird._

_From Monsignor Timothy Howard_

"Timothy, it wasn't yar obligation to do it for me but that's so kind of ya!" The cursive written names were the first thing she noticed in the brief message, bringing her joy and tears in the same time. "Thank you for everything and the kindness! And for these special presents!"

"I'll do anything for you, rare bird! I won't allow Father Malachi and Mother Claudia separate us. That's nothing on the world I shouldn't allow to happen." He wiped with a thumb the last gushing tears, forbidding them to stain her sufficiently, already tear-stained sanguinely tinted face.


	10. Three Last Words TIMOTHY HOWARD

Author's Note: This one-shot is about Timothy and an OC or rather an AHS custom character of mine, under the name Cindy Howard. Are you ready for tears and heartbreaks? This one-shot is exactly what will grant you. Enjoy! :))

The dynamic life of roller coaster was challenging not only for Cindy, moreover for her father, who was appointed as a Cardinal, Timothy Howard.

The wee months of 1971 or rather the spring of 1971 wasn't the most agitating period of time even in the single father and his half orphan's cases. Easter was approaching sooner along with the destined speculated prejudice.

Cindy Martin Howard was known as the love child of Timothy and Judy. She has inherited her father's lacing chestnut, hair pigment along with the straight hair texture, the warmest chocolate, tinting her irises and the most innocent, radiant smile she could offer. Unlike these physical features, the little girl has acquired or rather took after, her mother her sweet, elegant button nose, her petite, sensitive ears, her fair skin tone and her well-defined cheekbones, naturally inked upon her tiny, parchment face.

The young girl has been attending regularly school for months and her birthday was in the late days of September. Little did she know anything about her mother, besides having any collected piece of memories with her especially in the first moments since her first inhaled breath and uncontrollable, murderously deafening blubbers. Spending the first moments with her sweet ray of sunshine until Timothy has deprived her violently from her secure, doting arms, in fact, she was nothing than a madwoman behind the dull, achromatic walls of the old madhouse and he was more above her lawfully. The last time when the former devotional sister of the church has seen her creation was after her birth and afterwards the hazy images of her newborn daughter, fogging her vision and memories with her sanguine tinted cheeks, her big chocolate brown orbs and button nose were the most vivid, haunting her until her current residence was unidentified up to nowadays or still speculated the insanity and sinister starvation and lack of care consumed her identity.

Howsoever through the advancing days, subsequently turning into weeks, months even years, Cindy was raised in her biological father's arms as when he had a spare time that was in minimally often cases for example before bedtime or in the wee hours of the morning. Furthermore, a babysitter was hired to look after the infant, regardless how gradually notorious was becoming in the American society's eyes the aspiring, stubborn man of the cloth.

Cindy was well-known for her bashfulness, selfless and benevolent nature, besides she was criminally intelligent and inquisitive child, but the majority of the peers avoided her, factly, her father was a priest and she was deemed as nothing than a bizarre and quiet little girl. At last but not least, she has befriended with a handful of peers in the kindergarten only, who accepted her for who she is eventually, without judging her family background and the relentlessly disquieting circumstance she is a motherless love child.

What the young girl has struggled was with growing up without a mother and she has longed more than anything to behold at least once her mother and feel her platonically maternal, loving caresses, greasing her head, halo ringlet of silky chestnut tresses, piling up on her upper back and her plump cheeks, admiring her ethereal, youthful grace.

As soon as the British compatriot was appointed as a Cardinal, he saw a few times Judy before fleeing New York with his daughter and moving in a compact, nevertheless convenient, cozy apartment and the little girl's nanny encircling her daily especially when her father is with the mass.

As today Timothy had more leisure time which he compensate the months and years of spending limited time with his little sweet ray of sunshine, everybody were at home. Cindy, Timothy and the babysitter.

At the moment, the priest was dressed up in casual indoor attires such as a neat, clean white shirt with a handful of undone buttons and beige slacks.

"How is my favorite girl doing?" The holy man entered in the kitchen as Cindy was seating on the kitchen table, eating cookies in the plate that she and her babysitter baked together yesterday. He promptly earned the both ladies' attentions as if they were the sole inhabitants in this world, destroyed by the apocalypse and its gruesome natural disasters.

"She's doing pretty well, Timothy! She seems to love our cookies." The nanny replied jubilant as an ivory, sympathetic smile swayed across her naturally rosy-coloured, thin lips. The most sympathetic smile she has ever offered after the schooler.

"I'm fine, Daddy!" The brunette responded after munching a cookie, whereas the middle-aged man approached the kitchen table, leaning and peppering his daughter's cheeks with affectionate, feather kisses as his berry-coloured lips contacted her mossy, soft as velvet facial skin, thereafter seating alongside her as her wee fingers brushed the kissed spots.

"Well, isn't the weather wonderful today?" The young woman enquired rhetorically, filling her glass with ice water from the sink and sipping of the cool, fresh liquid that laced her tongue and organs, resurrecting it from the drying barrens.

Eventually the babysitter that was hired by Timothy was a young woman in the beginning of her 20s with bob crimson red hair, peaked its strands to her nape. Her name was Rosemary Blossom Anderson. Rosemary possessed fair skin tone and brutally honest, the coldest greenish-azure pools, fueled with warmness, platonic love and benevolence, flooding them. Further, she wasn't tall at all as her height can be measured 5'3 only and her body structure was mildly rotund, countouring her petite frame. As usually, the babysitter was dressed up in hippie garments, hugging her frail skeleton. She wasn't actually a native New Yorkerer. The young lady moved in New York after turning 18 from her birth town Burington, New Jersey.

"It's for sure, Rosemary! Easter is approaching too soon with the sunny weather together." The holy man said elatingly, whilst the schooler snatched another homemade cookie from the plate, consequently masticating it with her still growing, a couple of missing teeth, due to the fact she was almost six-year-old.

Furthermore the apartment was encompassed by the eloquent, beatific symphony of the chirping birds outside as the scintillating sun rays dispersed through the askew opened window, bathing the kitchen in saturating light as its light overally armored the exposed fleshes and shielding them from the spring breeze.

"Don't you want specifically anything to drink Timothy or Cindy?" All of a sudden the juvenile lady earned their inquiring stares, transfixed on her greenish-sapphire pools. "For example tea?" She resumed her questionable exclaimation as her lip curled, offering them tea.

"Nah, thank you, Rosemary! You're so sweet." The little girl giggled inwardly, sweetly as the giggle tickled the corners of her tiny mouth.

"Why not, Rosemary? I'd like some tea especially herbal." Eventually it was the aspiring member of the church who didn't reject the tea offer, biting his lip.

"Alright! It will be ready within a few minutes." The redhead took a pot as she filled it with some fresh, cool water, halfly pooling it until she placed it on the cooker until the water commences to boil.

\- _The Next Day_ -

As the day after advanced and Cindy finished school for today, thereafter she was picked up from her babysitter, Rosemary and they were sharing their daily activities and lives as usually on their way to home until they entered inside the grand façade in the wee hours of the afternoon.

As soon as the both females stepped inside the luxuriously adorned apartment of Timothy, thereafter the little girl found a note, laying on the dresser, pointing it with her pudgy forefinger as her nanny followed the indication.

"Nana, look! There's a note." The brunette cried out loud in humongous bafflement, vomited in her childish voice as the young lady tried to poke her shoulder, howsoever, she didn't expect what her mind was. In brief, Cindy didn't react to her poke at all.

"Cindy! No! You aren't supposed to read this." Suddenly the young girl snatched the handwritten note as she readily recognized the cursive manuscript, scribbling his final words even message before his unknown committed suicide, acknowledged by her.

"I want to read it, Rosemary! Daddy wrote it." The brunette heaved a jaded sigh, flaring her lungs as its oxygen surged her breathing organs, overlooking her nana's caution pigheadedly.

"It's obnoxiously distressing." The redhead cautioned sternly, coldheartedly until she noted the schooler's orbs were fixed on every word, perusing the paragraphs in her father's note before his death as he took his own life by slitting his wrists in the bath. "If you come to me to cry and see any shed tear, do not tell me I haven't warned you, cupcake!" In the meantime, Rosemary went to the room to prepare her favorite child's luggage as she was the first one to acknowledge the death of the Cardinal though she has forgotten to hide the note from Cindy.

_Dear Cindy,_

_My Ray of Sunshine_

_I have never been that happy for almost 6 years even more than 6 years when I found out your mother was pregnant and carrying a fresh life, growing inside her. We're sure it's going to be a girl and being named Cindy. You compensated the years of loneliness and celibacy with your childish laughs and smiles, besides your unique existence that was bringing me a smile every moment and every time whenever I think of you. Every time when I think of my creation, my one of a kind. My clever and beautiful girl, who is the reason why I was living without being upset. Nevertheless, some circumstances made me to end my life but just remember one thing. I will always watch you as an angel above you and much higher. In the golden and oceanic sky, smiling to you, waving at you and being encircled with my unconditional, paternal love. I'm going to be always your Guardian Angel, watching above you and protecting you from the evil of this cold, cruel world even the bullies. I can be a mortal but my paternal love is immortal for you._

_At last but not least, do not forget to leave the apartment with Rosemary immediately after reading this, because the police are after me and it's going to be after you. Go far far away! Be strong and stand for yourself if somebody is insulting my ashes and my name even yours! Do not lose faith and do not wipe off the shining smile on your gorgeous face!_

_My three last words for you, dear Cindy are: I love you!_

_Your beloved father_

"Cindy, Cindy, I warned you!" The young woman walked away from the children's room until she found out the little girl's ducked head, sobbing to herself as she allowed the crystal, salty tears roll down on her milky as snow, plump cheeks as her brittle heart sunk in the mist, profound oceans of the somber melancholy and ever-lasting gloominess. Bittersweet dew of moistness submerged her puffy eyelids, swallowing the gushing tears.

"Daddy is dead! I love him to death." She was clunging the note to her heart as if she was scooped in her father's loving embrace, relishing the absorbed mutual warmness smearing her epidermis and muscles."What made him to kill himself?" Even at such young, fragile age, the brunette comprehended what were the methods for suicide and homicide which were morbidly certain even for Rosemary.

"Shu, shu, shu, darling! It's a long story but when you grow up, you will better acknowledge it now, in fact, you're still so young and experience impossibly your father's loss." In the interim, the redhead crouched down, scooping Cindy in a warm, tight hug, in order to alleviate her as she wiped the tears. "Everything will be alright. We can run far away for example wherever the wind leads us." A rueful sarcasm emphasized the last two sentences.

The truth lastly was the babysitter didn't want to be specific about Timothy's committed suicide, however, she knew it right away even before his death. The monstrous investigation over the most notorious and horrid nuthouse and Lana's evaded questions earlier today were the essential motives of his death. Briefly, taking his life with his bare hands and a razor before the authorities questioned him even he is on a trial and being jailed for his crimes, and unanswered questions. Incarnation of the mental and physical weakness to cope with accepting the remorseless circumstances as a former Monsignor.

Nonetheless, Cindy and Rosemary are more than determined to flee not only the former holy man's apartment, but also New York and move somewhere else to live as the young lady raises on her own the young girl, taking with themselves every important and remarkable paraphernalia with one another. Incapable of allowing themselves to be part of the investigation and Rosemary being on a trial and testimony as a witness of Timothy. That was the sole alternative, guaranteeing their safety and peace.

Author's Final Note: Whether if you have enjoyed or not exactly this one-shot, a quick question: Should I write a book about Cindy Martin Howard, describing not only her life as a child but also as a grown-up adult and how she survives without her parents? (I'm not 100% completely sure if she might reunite with Judy but with Timothy is impossible after 1971)


	11. Unbelievable Heartbreak NUNSIGNOR

Author's Note: That's a part from the New Beginning especially taking its place in the sequel part though some circumstances and stuff are going to be changed! If you don't know the custom characters such as the twins Ellie and Tristan and the youngest Howard, Agnes Jude, subsequently go read the New Beginning before being spoiled way too much not only with one-shots, but also with the sequel that's going to be published one day. In addition to, Judy and Timothy are here in their 60s as it's readily known Judy is the older than Timothy in every Nunsignor story or one-shot! Anyway I hope you like and enjoy this one-shot! :))

-_ The New Beginning_ -  
\- _28th of November, 1982 -_

The years flew as quickly as a light summer breeze, tickling every surrounding.

As the time flew, the twins, Ellie and Tristan were already seventeen-year-old adolescents, whereas Agnes was 1-2 years her siblings' junior.

Since they have been attending regularly high school, the eldest twin, Ellie, has already been in a romantic relationship and most of all, dating a boy from the same school she goes, whose name is Adrian. They have been dating for a half a year as they had already their first kiss a couple of weeks since they have been together.

Not only with the juvenile brunette was utterly focused on Adrian, further, her grades dropped drastically as they were the lowest in her entire class. Despite the sinister circumstance of being an atrocious student with poor marks, her parents have never acknowledged the gentleman's backstory and family background such as he is part of the murderous cult, involving 3 members and his parents are filthy wealthy as the Howards. Even the rest of the inner circle kept their wits about the young lady's relationship with Adrian, besides the obnoxious change in her demeanor was disquieting them.

Little did they know why she was pouting every time when somebody persuades her to do any housework or questions her over the peer, besides huffing.

As today Ellie and Adrian had a date to go to the cinema, her parents have grounded her to leave her home even hang out with her leery boyfriend.

The late November days were embraced by the wee, almost vague hints of the winter as the glacial season was about to loom within less than a month only. Autumn's merest phenomenons such as the humongous crispy leaves' carpet sheeted the ground and the almost daily rainy days in Boston have already died, ebbing out gradually as the ground was no longer sheeted in crispy, diversity of colorful leaves with exception of the soft snow.

When Agnes was eating homemade honey cookies, Tristan was washing the already used, filthy dishes and eating tools from earlier today, standing beside the sink.

At the moment, the former members of the church were relaxing on the leather couch, cuddling as their inquisitive, mildly jaded irises were goggled to the television screen. The current television program broadcasted the newest movie that has aired out earlier this year and it has been broadcasted repeatedly twice per 3 months.

Even if Judy and Timothy were already in their 60s, they still kept themselves in shape and they haven't entirely the inevitable aging process affect not only their mentality, moreover their physical frames such as the white hairs that werw highlighting their natural hair colors and the gruesome, inescapable weight gain since they were spending more time at home and spending freely, carelessly the cash on variety of necessary products in their daily lives and bonuses.

The brunette walked in the kitchen to fill her glass with some fresh, lukewarm water from the sink and moderating via the faucet the running jet water's temperature. Her presence was even invincible, unarguably irritating for her younger siblings and treating almost every one from her inner circle as if they're peculiar strangers or she doesn't gives a damn about them.

"How is the domestic slave's day going?" The eldest child enquired with immense, criminal sarcasm, vomited in her enquiry as she gathered a clean, unused yet glass for ordinary beverages from the high kitchen cabinet. She attempted to test her brother's patience as his hands were baptized in soap effervesce. "Wiping mom and dad's asses to get the shit done?" A velvety, versatile giggle quivered her oral caverns as if an earthquake was shaking the ground. Her petite, milky as vanilla hand amiably patted the blond boy's skinny muscly shoulder.

Meantime, her younger sister as she was munching the cookie, her youthful, porcelain complexion grimaced, shooting a piercing glare at her older sibling, snarling, due to her unbearable, remorseless conceit. Furthermore, Ellie sipped her glass of water once she filled it, whilst sweltering heat crept underneath Tristan's cheeks, tinting them ruddily as he was utterly focus on his task instead responding to his notoriously vexatious sister. The both younger siblings' blood vigorously boiled in their veins especially Agnes Jude's, her lips motioning the munched cookie until its chunks gulped down.

"Not again with your stupid games, Ellie! It's so infantile using swearing words." The youngest Howard cautioned sternly, coldly as the incessant, perky heart beats pulsated into her ears, laced in absolute fury.

"You're not the person to judge me what's the best for me or what should come from my lips, Agnes!" Shortly after quaffing the cool, fresh liquid, afterwards she put her already used glass in the sink, strolling up dramatically up to Agnes to startle her. "Because you're another goody two shoes bitch, who likes to lick mom and dad's rears with yar tongue tip." In the interim, the young man finished with washing the dishes until his chocolate brown irises were met with an empty glass, without being filled with any water to be a bonus to the chores, gritting his firm, ivory teeth. The brunette leaned against her juvenile sibling, putting her tongue out in jeering, wry manner as Agnes turned to the plate with the cookies, trying her best to give her a cold shoulder as if she's either a bizarre, lunatic stranger or on the contrary a bully.

"Ellie?" The boy opted to grab his twin sister's attention as he turned to her with nonchalance, sketched upon his face and keeping it cool outside without showing any intimations of antagonism and ire.

"Huh?" All of a sudden, the young woman turned to Tristan as her fists clawed the dining table's edge, arching elegantly an eyebrow. "Is there any problem, Tris?"

"I don't want to sound rude or something but haven't you forgotten to wash this?" In the meanwhile, he ushered her to amble up to him and show the filthy glass which she used to drink once water just a few minutes ago.

"Am I maid or something? To clean all this shit after myself?"

"Look what, Ellie! As you're my sister and you're living under this fricking roof, you haven't got the right to whine like a baby for the pettiest problem that occurs and it's your obligation to do some of this stuff, instead of us." At the moment, the youngest child got from the kitchen table and walked away from the kitchen as she was fed up with her twin siblings' drama that almost transpires once or twice a daily.

"Why don't you just wash this glass, because in less than a quarter an hour I should leave home?"

"Don't you remember you're the one who's grounded for going out with a bad guy and most of all, not even giving any efforts to improve your grades?" Meanwhile, Ellie pouted her lips, exhaled dramatically, half-heartedly as she placed a hand on her chest, her fingers fiddling her dress's top buttons.

"It can be in less than a quarter an hour. First and foremost, I'm not grounded, Tris! Second, who cares about homework when you're a high school student as that's for elementary school even younger students?" He momentarily washed his hands and then expunging them in the kitchen towel, whereas his sister walked away from the kitchen, heading to the stairway to tower the stairs and gather her purse and afterwards put on her platform booties along with her winter paletot, hugging her frail skeleton.

"Ellie, c'mere! Don't you remember what they told you about leaving the house?" In the meantime, the female adolescent hasted to her bedroom to flee the property within seconds without an ado, panting vaguely. Although she attempted to run away and go on the date right on time without being late even for a single second, she didn't peel a single word, replying her concerned and slightly exasperated twin brother.

Within less than a minute when the high schooler has already gathered her remarkable, necessary stuff for the cinema date with her boyfriend, she descended the stairs in hurry without wasting any potential time rather in bickers or somebody blocking her way. Once her tiny, feminine feet were booted in the platform booties, she was about to put on the paletot until the former Monsignor turned upward his shoulder, noting his oldest daughter was about to leave the mansion until he joggled his wife to follow his squinting glare at the notoriously rebellious young lady.

"Ellie? Sweetheart, what ushers you to leave home? Didn't you forget somebody is forbidden to leave the house even hang out with yar Romeo?" The blonde said in taunting, scoffing manner as the couple got from the sofa to approach their daughter as they hopped up in the fuzzy, comfy slippers and walking away from the living room. Piercing, murderous glare was casted on the young woman as her hazelish-brown pools were as honed as arrows, darted to the target and subsequently marking a bullseye.

"Mom and dad, that's nothing what it looks like!" A mischievous, cocky grin honed up in the corner of her lips, winking at them seconds before unlocking and opening the front door and to be lost to sight.

"Ellie!" The both adults cried out as one, feeling immensely impotent to stop their daughter from her current passions.

\- _A Half an Hour Later _-

Once the riot fled her two-story house and walking all alone to the cinema, agitation was consuming her. Agitation to meet in face-to-face her boyfriend and watch a thriller film since they have been keen fans of thriller and they were eager to watch one tonight.

As soon as the eldest Howard child stepped inside the façade, suddenly she spotted her boyfriend with another girl, kissing in front of her sultrily as their wet, raspberry tongues were dueling together until Adrian plugged his tongue inside his classmate's mouth, deepening the kiss into a French one.

Adrian's female classmate, who he was kissing at the moment was a peer, possessing fair skin tone, strawberry brown lion mane of silky old Hollywood tresses, piled up on her shoulders and framing ideally her diabolically succumbing with its stunning facial features for a seventeen-year-old lady. Her caramel brown eyes fluttered shut in slits, relishing the romantic moment she was spending with one of the cult members behind Ellie's back, in order to mortify her and bully her even more on the day after when they get back to school. Adrian's classmate and he have been secretly together for 2 months as they have discreetly hided this circumstance from her and acting like they're solely friends in front of her, whereas once she's gone, they were brightly contrasting in their manners and demeanor. The strawberry brunette wasn't tall at all, standing just 5'4 only and having a lean body structure, calling herself additionally as flat as a wood board. In addition to her portrayal, her name is Bennett Ivy.

Bennett and Ellie have never been affable to each other, factly, they were fighting over one guy and most of all, tolerating their own presences when they were together, abstaining from bickers and inflammatory slogans, exchanging to one another.

"Adri," The eldest Howard heir after her parents stuttered, struggling to spell his shorter name, storming up to the kissing young couple to push them away violently from one another and interrupting their kiss. "What the hell is wrong with you, you bastard?" All of a sudden, once she interrupted their sweet, sinfully luscious kiss, she smacked a slap across their faces, startling them with her sudden slap and presence, lowering her tearful and vexed voice, vomited in her rhetorical exclaimation, squinting her fatigued eyes, deluging them with a dew of salty moistness, verging tears to roll on her cheeks due to the heartbreak and betrayal.

"It doesn't look like, Ellie! Trust me!" Suddenly the cult member ducked his head half-heartedly in shame and guilt, enveloping his fragile heart, shrugging, pouting his lips in a remorseful frown.

"What a fucking liar you're! I didn't know you were having an affair or some kind of a discreet relationship with this whore!" Crystal, bittersweet in frustration tears tumbled down her cheeks, staining her parchment, pale as snow complexion in moistness, baring her teeth firmly and clenching her small, soft as satin hands into balled fists in adrenaline. She lowered her head, feeling the heartache gradually consuming her along with the celestially invincible shadows and demons scrapping her already infamously cracked flimsy heart on ocean of fragments. "A whore, whom did you kiss just moments ago in front of my eyes, Adrian! I don't have any idea if she's going to be part of tonight's plan to watch a thriller film but make it out when the movie is running and I don't care about you anymore!" The young lady tilted her head as the both teenagers' slim, clumsy fingers were greasing featherly, delicately their slapped areas, feeling itching pain inked upon their cheeks. "Go to hell and I hope ya have so much fun humiliating each other!" In the meantime, she marched up to the double front door without even daring to turn her back until Bennett bolted to her, poking her shoulder as she didn't react, nor responded.

"You stupid little bitch, how dare you to call me a whore? You're nothing than a piece of shit and I'm glad Adrian isn't going to lick your boots anymore." Meantime, the eldest twin sibling was sobbing quietly to herself, refraining to fight back as she was fed up with the overbearing drama queen which would be more infantile of Ellie's side if she did it otherwise.

:"Ellie, come back!" Adrian shrieked, sensing the vulnerability lingering on his tongue, unable to convince her to stay for longer.

The eventual truth was Ellie has never acknowledged their discreet relationship until she witnessed the most loathsome moment ever when it comes up to relationship and romance. The off-putting heartbreaks, sorrow and numbness were the sole feelings that were freezing her mind as she couldn't put a finger on them.

The minutes flew like hours, transforming into days even weeks, months and lastly ages for the former devotional members of the church as Agnes and Tristan were already asleep since they should get up early in the wee hours of the Monday morning, in order to not miss school. The both unconditionally, unspeakably concerned parents were sharing a short tea party with themselves with plain mugs of herbal green tea, motionlessly sitting on the dining table.

Even when they opted to stop their oldest daughter to hang out with her recent ex-boyfriend, who was actually her first ever boyfriend in her whole life as they have phoned a couple of minutes ago their inner circle if they have seen actually somewhere Ellie, nonetheless nobody knew nothing about her disappearance in the middle of the night. Even Frank, Valerie and Sally knew nothing about her recent location.

"It tremendously worries me something horrible may has happened to Ellie!" The former man of the cloth sipped the hot herbal beverage as its liquid gulped down his organs, shifting his stare up to the window as the mesmerizing landscape of the tumbling snowflakes outside was giving early winter vibes and aesthetics. However, they weren't capable of wiping off his frown from his still young-looking, mildly wrinkled face. "I've always doubted that boy, who she always rejects to tell us more about him."

"No wonder why she has a taste for bad guys especially a member of a murderous cult, known for its notoriety in Boston and killing innocents!" The blonde replied dryly, ruefully as her fingers were bluntly, softly playing with the mug, contemplating it as the both anxious parents' hearts sunk at the thought of something befalling their eldest creation.

"I pray my heart our lovely girl to be alright and nothing atrocious to befall her!" The younger man mumbled in honeyed, desperate voice as his temple crinkled until they glanced at a moving petite framed girl outside, tapping on the kitchen window's glass with her gloved hand. "Ellie?"

"Look! That's our precious!" Suddenly the both distressed parents got from the dining table, marching up to the corridor to unlock the front door and scoop in a tight, warm hug their daughter until the last click of the front door they were met with their desperate creation, gazing up at them, sobbing inwardly to herself. "Ellie, we've been dying of worry for ya! C'mere to scoop you in a goddamn tight and warm hug, my darling!"

"He broke my heart!" Once the both parents braced their eldest daughter in an embrace, she murmured, closing her eyes and relishing the loving moment of uniting with her parents after holding grudges.

"I told ya, he isn't the right gentleman for ya, Ellie! It's okay to be heartbroken, ya know. You're going through this and its part of your life, because you're going to be heartbroken a lot of times." The Bostonian whispered in velvety, soothing voice as her heart sunk, due to the fact, Ellie's heart ached for finding out her boyfriend was cheating on her with another girl that was exactly their age.

"I swear to God if I find this little piece of shit for breaking your heart, I will teach him a very good lesson to sit on his bum and regret for ruining you for the rest of his day-" As the former holy man verged to resume his frustrated mutter, it was the older woman, who cut him off curtly, shushing to him softly.

"Shu, shu, shu, Tim! I don't believe in the violence for the solution. In addition to Ellie deserves to rest and relax, whereas I'm particularly glad she has finally realized with what a piece of garbage she was dating for a half a year but we knew the whole truth about this brat and his story." When they broke off the hug, the young lady stepped inside the hall, kicking off her booties and discarding her coat, consequently hanging it on the coat hanger as she was eager to crawl in the bed after taking a hot, streaming shower and dress up herself in pyjamas. The bedtime episode when she's capable of sorting her mind and allowing it to relax ultimately without any detrimental thought crossing her train of thoughts.

"I'll be fine." The sniffles subdued as she wiped off the last drying tears of her irises with a thumb, exchanging cheek kisses with Timothy and Judy, seconds before rushing to impose the stairway to the second floor.

"I bet you'll feel much better on the next morning."

What the brunette has assimilated and figured out was her parents were actually readily right since the beginning. Even if they weren't being told and collecting any piece of information about the leery young man via their source of information, Ellie, thanks to the news by framing the murderous, sonly based a barbaric cult, Adrian is a member of its horde. Thanks to the galore reward they were earning from killing relentlessly their victims even collecting their organs and blood, jamming them in jars and using them for special purposes. Ellie has officially broken up with Adrian and determining herself no longer to socialize with him as the most horrid truths about him were about to be heard from Ellie and realizing the half a month of year of dating a serial killer was unmistakably shame and abhorrent for her.


	12. You're a Rara Avis I NUNSIGNOR

_\- 25th of November, 1963 -_

Today was Jude's birthday as she hasn't reckoned them as prominent days with exception of just mere days. Days like the other days of the year unlike Christmas, Easter and Thanksgiving. Nonetheless there was sole issue which with the advancing time and part of her evolution became her second nature. Notwithstanding the rueful circumstances of being a childless, unwed and without a family ordinary woman, devoted to the church and taking solemnly the vows as a golden, plate armor. Golden plate armor against her former lifestyle, known as criminally licentious for the one-night stands with the stranger men, the inebriating alcohol, the distressing loneliness. Thanks to the second chance that God gave her, the devotional woman of the cloth, herself, took his hand and opened a new chapter in her life, where she's Judy Martin, disguised as a nun with the conservative, dark rigid habit and dark wool wimple as hallowed attires, concealing the darkness of her past. Or rather, well-known as Sister Jude.

In the wee hours of midnight after reciting in a murmur the evening prayer, the blonde released her lion mane of crispy glossy gilt tresses, piled up on her dark conservative shapeless habit, hugging her slender, doubtlessly ageless body as she casted the wimple on the dresser.

It has been a couple of hours since the lunatics have been gathered in their cells for extra good night sleep, as a result of shutting down up to the morning after the common room.

The middle-aged woman was about to crawl in her compact bed by commencing to unbutton a handful of buttons of her habit until a couple of sufficiently audible, potent raps on the door caught her off guard, snapping her out of her train of thoughts. Pensiveness petered off as she buttoned back the buttons.

"Jude, may I enter?" It was the Monsignor standing beside the mosaic glass office door, taking a deep breath coyly, his mammoth, milky as vanilla hands were into his pockets.

The first minutes in the midnight episode of the day loomed as it was 25th of November's eve, being embraced by the translucent moonlight dispersing its pale light through the former licentious jazz nightclub singer's battered, miniature wall window, bathing her en-suite bedroom in dim moonlight as it mingled with the turned on lights.

Little did the holy woman what her crush was doing during midnight time especially being widely awake.

"Hold on a second, Timothy!" The middle-aged lady cautioned, walking away from the en-suite bedroom by turning the lights off as it sunk in partly ebon darkness, throughout stepping back in her austere, dim lit up office as her light, feminine footsteps approached the locked door, unlocking it until she opened it and the blonde was eventually embraced by her love interest's flabbergasting presence. "Oh! For heaven sake," The blonde cried out, clawing with her petite, creamy hand her chest as her flimsy heart verged to spring up from her constricted chest like a toy-out-of-the-box, inhaling then exhaling sharply, frantically as a beaming, benevolent smile honed up in the corner of Timothy's berry-coloured, dry lips. "What are ya doing in midnight, Timothy? Yar supposed to be already," As Jude verged to resume her utterance, he shushed to her, cutting her off curtly.

"I came here for an informal reason, Jude!" In the meanwhile, she stepped aside, allowing him to step in her dim lit office, thereafter the door was shut by the Bostonian, herself, consequently ushering him to take a seat as she seated on the top of her cherry wood desk. She returned the smile with a radiant, serene, swaying across her naturally rosy-coloured, perfectly shaped lips.

"Oh! What kind of an informal reason brings ya here, Timothy?" The blonde darted her caramel brown pools, fueled with delirious weariness, in fact, she was sleepy. On other hand, the warmest molting caramel glinted its genuine pigments. In the interval, the British compatriot's warm chocolate brown eyes were transfixed on his favorite nun, opting to not admire her ethereally undeniable beauty along with her halo ringlet of fleecy old Hollywood aureate curls, framing ideally her angelic, still gorgeous complexion for a middle-aged lady. She looked nothing compared to the majority of the middle-aged ladies, who have already gained weight, gave a birth once at least, their parchment complexions are mapped with wrinkles, stretch marks naturally inked on their fleshes. Even the alluring hair scent taunted his sensitive nostrils, testing their sensitivity and sinful versatility.

"Well, since it's your birthday, I've a surprise for you since you know," The younger man stuttered, struggling to spell the last words correctly as his berry-coloured lips curled in choir. "You've always taken care of me and nurtured me. We've been friends for years and the friends deserve presents as a sign of the promises. Reward for the loyalty and the strong bond that kept us inseparable." All of a sudden, he took one of her quivering elvish, pale as snow hand into his larger, amusingly balmy warm hand, whereas his other hand balled tiny, silver, shimmering due to its grizzly hues ring with rolled short note. It wasn't extravagant, nor exorbitant. The thumb kneaded the back of her hand, alleviating her nerves which to be tantamount to freezing, being nonplussed and incapable of thinking rationally and clearly as usually.

The truth was Timothy and Jude have been not only friends for a couple of years, further, they discreetly concealed the spellbinding feelings they've harbor shortly after meeting one another and realizing the brilliant potential of being a potent, unarguably entangled bond. They've always yearned for fleeing the church and be family people, resulting a marriage and having their own children with the concept either their daughter possessing her mother's beaming, charming smile or their son having inheriting his mother's piercing, brutally honest hazelish-brown eyes.

"Is that for," Dew of moistness pooled her incessantly blinking eyelids as the ebon, long eyelashes flapped its wings, baptized in dew, crystal tears sprung up in her irises, verging to gush down on her plump, well-defined cheeks. As soon as the aspiring Monsignor released his balled hand, he slipped the finger on her finger delicately, relishing the moment of slipping it, picturing the explicit, enticing images of if Judy was actually his wife or rather fiancé. Meanwhile, the middle-aged lady shifted down her stare to his hand, following its motion of slipping the ring as electrifying shivers and paroxysm contaminated her bones and muscles. "You're a rara avis, Jude!" The priest whispered in honeyed voice with his British accent, accentuating on the whisper that fancied she's going to be astounded to bones. At the moment, the nun's honey brown irises were goggled on the simple silver ring, wearing a demure, girlish smile, kissing her lips.

"A rara avis?" Without averting her gaze from the precious ring, she nibbled on the silken skin of her bottom, plumpish lip with her anterior ivory teeth as her heart was enveloped in awe, bizarre felicity, whilst he handed her discreetly the rolled note for her, subsequently maneuvering her to grasp it in her solely free hand. "What on world does that mean?"

"It means a rare bird in Latin." Meantime, her honey brown pools drifted up to his alleviating chocolate brown pools, meeting his stare, locking it up as his only free hand squeezed lightly, affably her balled in a fist hand with the rolled note. "You're a rare bird into my eyes."

"But is this ring for me?"

"Not only the ring." In the meanwhile, the younger man arched gamely his eyebrows, manipulating her eyes to lower to the clutch hand, emboldening her to read the note which was a bonus to her birthday present. "Read the note! It's for you."

When she released the grip, she rolled off the sheet of paper, throughout taking her time to scan the text warily, assimilating every word even if it was short.

_Jude, I don't know how to say it but you've always been on my mind and you're the reason why I wear a smile across my lips every day or every time whenever we see each other. I've never been like that ever before. You're my ray of sunshine! That's reason why you're going to have a bonus reward tomorrow or rather on the morning after._

_I love you, my rare bird!_

_Timothy_

Once the blonde read the brief message, subsequently crystal, translucent tears rolled on her cheeks, ducking her head as she was beyond speechless somebody is going to be that amiable and lovely to her especially on her birthday as she has outnumbered it as a remarkable day. It was her boss, who eventually was amidst the fewest people or the sole person that cares about her and has a yen to behold her heavenly gleeful.

"Timothy, I've never been that happy ever before or somebody to care about me by making my birthday so special!" The sister of the church muffled tearful mumble as Timothy got from his seat, consequently scooping her in a tight, warmhearted embrace as one of his hands was rubbing her upper back, in order to soothe her and encourage her to subdue the sniffles. In the meantime, her tear-stained, ruddy face was buried in the crook of his neck, scarcely nuzzling the mossy, creamy as satin skin of his neck. Her eyelids were tightly shut as blinds.

"Shu, shu, shu, Jude! You deserve everything that makes you happy." Meanwhile they had their arms snaked around one another's torsos, being clung to one another. "Happy birthday once again, rare bird!"

Shortly after they broke off the hug, consequently her tears ebbed off her face without even being wiped off with a thumb or a handkerchief, whilst her uncontrollable, reckless sniffles subdued, vanished in the thin air at last.


	13. Sweet Dreams I SARANGE

The dreams were as sweet as the paradise. Or the dreams were insatiably inexistent, brightly contrasting the reality. Whether inebriated or sober, the reverie's realm was a much different place even for the most impossible things ever to happen in the real realm.

Susan, herself, could feel firmness was contacting her motionless body and chaos encircling her even without opening her eyelids, flapping its eyelids in a frequent blink per a couple of seconds. The redhead's gothic, diabolic ebony gown with plunged neckline and ruffled sleeves as its hem flared her curled in a ball legs. Diabolic circle was laying on the obsidian ceramic flooring as if a spiral was whirling, spellbinding the area with its own darkness and consuming the celestial light.

Once the actress came to her senses as her petite, lukewarm hands were pawing recklessly the ceramic ground, suddenly she emitted a mere yawn as her ruby-coloured lips curled at the yawn, whilst her gloved hands rubbed her drowsy eyelids until she ultimately opened them. At first, her vision was hazily blurry, fogging its surroundings and getting from the ground, wondering where she was.

"Where am I?" The middle-aged lady evoked out in mumble, zinging her ruby-coloured, soft as velvet lips until the blurriness no longer fogged her vision and Susan had the entire chance to inspect her recent surroundings along with the place.

Loneliness and silence encircled her in a scooped, tight hug as a cabin with white as snow were painted the walls with big French window, giving a flabbergasting view to outdoors. The yard was adorned with flowerbeds with white flowers such as white roses, white tulips, marigolds and many others as well. Further, grandiose trees with monumentally snow crowns were a heavenly brilliant addition to the yard. A fallen angel statue was in the middle of the gardens, bearing a semblance of a cathedral statue, oozing its divine aura to diffuse all over the venue.

"W-What is this place? Is this heaven or a purgatory? Is that the punishment for my intoxication the last night?" Her hazelish-brown pools, fueled with unconditional bewilderment were pigmenting, illuminating its genuine pigments into her blazing pools. Grotesque, inquisitive as a child frown honed up in the corner of her lips as the heart beats subdued drastically as they pulsated into her ears like headphones.

No actions, nor response. Abundance of questions whirled up in her whirlpool of thoughts vigorously, resembling a natural disaster that was brewing.

The venue at first sight bears a semblance either of a purgatory or a heaven for Susan. Purgatory, where the wretched souls haven't utterly determined their fated souls whether to be amidst the angelic ones after accomplishing peace at last or the devils swirl circa the ethereally eternal fiendish soul that has been fated to be sent at hell.

All of a sudden, the sound of opening window caught her off guard as its window wings flapped like a bird's feather wings as a younger lady's porcelain, pale as ghost complexion showed, whistling with her peach pink lips at the uninvited guest in the paradise.

"Sue, come over here!" Jessica ushered her to enter in the cabin, fanning with a hand, in fact, the paradise was sweltering hot. Unbearably hot as an August summer day territory, somewhere in the reverie's realm. A tempting, blissful smirk smile kissed her lips.

"I'm coming, Jess!" In the interval, Susan strolled up to the one-story house as it was humble. It wasn't that ginormous as a medieval chateau, nor that as compact as a dollhouse. It was perfectly expansive for her and her lover. "Just a second!" The older lady muttered under her breath as her jet black as the death stilettos clicked against the ceramic ground, producing frequent, monotonous tick-tacking and numbing the hush that was arching as a rainbow.

As soon as the redhead stepped on the porch, the suddenness of the instantly opened front door astounded her to bones as she couldn't put a finger on it. Little did she know if that was a heaven. If it was a paradise, was the supernaturalism part of their isolated world, just 2 of them only? If yes, then Jessica is responsible for the opened front door in a simple flick of her finger, momentarily casting the spell.

"Oh wow!" When the older actress made her own way inside the one-story house as it had a bar, living room, bedroom, kitchen and bathroom as the sole rooms gathered in a property altogether. In the meantime, Fleetwood Mac's song Silver Springs was currently playing in the background. "Is that our house, Jess?"

"_You could be my silver springs__! __Blue green colors flashin'__! __I would be your only dream__! __Your shining autumn, ocean crashing__ a__nd did you say she was pretty__! __And did you say that she loves you__!_"

"It's our home, honey!" The blonde emphasized our home, replying bashfully, girlishly as her lips curled in the reply, swaying her hips as the snake skin of the angelically, pearly white as vanilla gown with spaghetti straps and ankle length hem descended her ankles. Her pristinely long, adroit fingers were absently, coyly playing her empty scotch glass.

"It's gorgeous!" The red-haired woman evoked out in awe, admiring its mesmerizing furniture and atmosphere that were encompassing both of them, ambling up to the bar's stool to take a seat and share a drink with her lover. "Even there's a bar, full of whiskeys, cognacs, rums and so forth!" A hoarse, wry chuckle tickled her dry corners of her mouth as her lion mane of silky ginger tresses bounced with each took step. Suddenly she met her younger lover's magnetic stare, locking up hers and admiring her ethereally indisputable beauty, tattooed all over her. Jessica was inescapably, sinfully beautiful into her eyes.

"Yeah! Everything is ours and it will be ours!" Meantime, Susan seated on the bar stool, readjusting the hem of her gown and crossing conveniently her still drop-dead gorgeous, long as towers legs for her seventies. An abrupt seductive, smug grin blossomed on Susan's face. "Would you care for a drink, darling?"

"Absolutely! One Bacardi Black rum." At the moment, the younger lady docilely followed her lover's instructions by gathering an empty, unused yet scotch glass and researching for Bacardi Black rum all over the collection of alcoholic bottles as the opened the cap merely, throughout pouring its mouth-watering, sweetly fiendish liquor pooling the scotch glass.

"Of course! It's only for you, Sue!" Shortly after pouring the rum, she returned the bottle back to the humongous class by its variety of choice alcoholic beverages and pouring herself a Jim Bean in her scotch glass within a split second until the both women raised their glasses for a prominent toast, looking up into one another's eyes with fierce passion. "Let's raise a toast for being here!"

"Let's raise a toast for being at heaven just 2 of us only!" Then their glasses contacted in an ordinary clink, consequently lifting up the scotch glasses up to their lips, sipping of them until they left aloof the glass of liquors sitting motionlessly on the bar table."Wait a second! I'm the devil." All of a sudden, Susan's tongue clicked emphatically at the thought that just resurfaced as an iceberg into her train of thoughts about the paradise and the oppositions reuniting in a venue where it's presumed it's for the angels or rather the good guys solely.

"_Baby, I don't wanna know__! __I'll begin not to love you__! __Turn around, see me runnin'__! __I'll say I loved you years ago__! __Tell myself you never loved me, no__ a__nd did you say she was pretty__!_"

"Mhm!" Reluctant bob of the blonde's head affirmed in strong agreement, wedging her lips in a plain purse, without averting her gape from the older woman.

"And you're an angel, sweetie! How does that work? How a devil is supposed to be behind the paradise's golden gates?"

"Everything is possible when the key is the closeness, itself, Sue! Since I'm an angel, I've got the right to bring you with me behind the paradise's grand, golden gates and be together." A mischievous, provocative wink was shot at the older lady, opting to soothe her to calm her nerves without spending a single second worrying why she's stuck in the heaven since she has the least expected it, due to the fact her identity doesn't allow her to reside a hallowed area. Meanwhile, the both ladies gulped a couple of medium liquors, gushing down her organs and body, resurrecting it and allowing their bones and body muscles to be sedated under the alcohol's control, affecting their bloods. "And no matter if you're the devil, I still love you. The love has no borders, you know."

"I-I love you too, Jess! Very much!" The older actress confessed, swigging the liquor in a jiffy until the searing burns of the sweet, scrumptious alcohol burned the corners of her mouth, enforcing her instincts to lick gamely, greedily her rum-stained lips."I feel so special for being the sole soul to accompany you in the heavens. You're more special, sweetheart!"

"I'm honored to hear that!" The younger lady sipped of her bourbon, whispering in honeyed voice to her lover.

It has been an hour or so since Jessica has already lost consciousness due to the potent, invincible power of the alcohol, commanding her body, muscles and bones without permitting them to motion at least.

When the older actress noticed that her lover was senseless, she lifted her up in a bridal lift to their double bed they're about to share, in order to rest for awhile, taking off her stilettos and blanketing her petite frame with a baby blue silk blanket, shielding her epidermis. It dumbfounded the older lady that she was able to haul her up to the king-sized bed without waking her as well.

A quarter an hour, Susan spent in front of the television, snuggling by herself on the couch in the living room and relishing the disturbing loneliness that has scooped her in a timeless embrace. Afterward Susan turned off the television, factly, the boredom was gnawing her slowly and plaguing her cells, incapable to ponder profoundly in her train of thoughts about her lover, who was currently soundly asleep in their bedroom.

Once the middle-aged lady got from the sofa and ambled up to the bedroom's door, she made sure to open the notoriously creaky door timidly as through the ajar gap her pair of caramel brown irises glimpsed at the kipping younger lady, admiring her endless grace even when she was kipping.

In the meantime, the red-haired actress tiptoed up to the double bed after shutting warily the bedroom door, wedging her lips in a begrudging, thoughtful purse.

Suddenly, the blonde stirred and heaved a jaded exhale from the top of her brittle lungs, babbling to herself:

"Sue, is that you?"

"Oh yeah, it's me, honey! Would you like a company?" In the interim, the younger woman's irises were partly opened, incessantly blinking and offering her lover a sympathetic, heavenly smile, distorted across her lips.

"Sure! Why not?"

"That's so sweet of you, you know!" At the moment, the both women reunited on the king-sized bed as they snaked their arms around their upper backs, scooping one another in a tight, warmhearted hug as their nose tips nuzzled along.

"Aww!" Their chests were pressed on each other until Susan's luscious, ruby-coloured lips pursued the younger lady's ones in a steamy kiss, spontaneously sealing them in a hardening kiss, fluttering shut their eyelids in a deeper kiss as the younger actress managed up her hands to play with the ginger's halo ringlet of sleek ginger curls, admiring its crispy softness greasing her delicate fingers which twirled the curls. As their kisses grew ferocious, their tongues commenced to duel each other until Jessica plugged her wet tongue inside the older woman's mouth, deepening into a French one. "I love you!" Mumble zinged her lips.

"I love you much more than anything!"


	14. Fated Parents I NUNSIGNOR

Sometimes the days were darker than usually. Or rather, darker than celestial paradise. The loss of the man of the cloth's older brother, John and his wife, Beth in a car accident not only turned downward on 360 degrees his life and the day he just received a letter from the epispocate for being appointed as a Cardinal, but also his handsome, yet youthful face was tear-stained and no longer wearing the charming, radiant smile that smeared across his lips. Radiant, charming smile that blossomed as a spring flower in the wee days of spring every time when the pride flapped its golden, divine wings which enveloped his flimsy heart. Or eventually, unspeakable glee every time whenever he beheld his favorite nun, or they just had their own short conversations before getting back to the real, sinister business that awaited them.

The aspiring Monsignor was seating in his office by contemplating glassily, blankly the calendar as it read approximately the first days of October. Even the warmest chocolate pigment that glinted his big, fueled with benevolent, sheer innocence lost its brightest chocolate brown pigment, consequently tinting them the palest, the blandest brown. His berry-coloured, dry lips were curled in a grotesque, mournful frown which wasn't displaced whether with a half-hearted or a genuinely beaming smile across his lips. His long, pristine fingers were tapping in unnerved manner the hardwood desk in his austere, unwelcoming office in the wee hours of midnight. He received a phone call from his solely alive sibling, his older brother Daniel, who broke the eventual news about the car accident and the victims of it.

Bittersweet, crystal tears have already poured as a heavy rain on his still young-looking, parchment complexion, staining it in dew of moistness. The middle-aged man was just sitting in his office, doing his own business or pacing in the abysmal, long hallways of the infamously gruesome madhouse, in order to look after patients approximately rarely in the common room, being accompanied by his right hand, Sister Jude. Although keeping it cool on outside without showing any hints of dubiousness in his behavior and emotions, his heart was still aching and mourning over the fresh death of Beth and John. He could scarcely figure out how still young souls they were that to pass away in balefully brutal car crash today.

As his great potential to become a Cardinal and then Pope were on very top of his priorities and Judy being the Mother Superior too, otherwise his blizzard of thoughts wasn't as sorted as before. He was so far befuddled to think clearly and rationally after this roller coaster from the letter and his formal appointment as a Cardinal to the loss of 2 significant family members broke his heart. Not only the priest was heartbroken to pieces, moreover his mother, Teresa.

The silence was consuming Timothy along with the heartbreak. He wiped with a thumb his last drying, stray tears from his puffy, ruddy eyes as if the rain has suddenly stopped at last.

All of a sudden, a handful of sufficiently audible door raps caught him off guard, snapping him out of his train of thoughts as little did he know who was his uninvited guest in the middle of the night. Whether Frank or Judy, it was still a tough challenge for the member of the clergy to have an adequate conversation with either of them today, eschewing from sniffling quietly and allowing freely the waterfall of intermittent tears to gush down his cheeks. The holy man must conceal underneath his mask the severe emotions and feelings of grief and sorrow especially now.

Without replying, the office door opened abruptly by the older woman as Jude, herself, was widely awake in the middle of the night and noting bizarre, significant change in her boss's demeanor lately. Not these days but it was since today. Even when the blonde beheld him in the dim light and profound corridors of the nuthouse or in the common room, she didn't behold the same Monsignor at all. It was actually Timothy Howard concealing the darkness of his true emotions and feelings he felt and being himself instead the revered man of the cloth, who eagerly pursued his dreams even the most divine ones.

"M-Monsignor?" The older lady murmured softly as immense concern was accentuating her stutter when she was approaching the hardwood bureau. "I didn't mean to intrude or anything but,"

"Everything is okay, Jude! You may take a seat." He maneuvered with his mammoth, veiny hand to his rara avis to take a seat against him without an ado as a melancholic, rueful smile was swaying across his baby pinkish lips. His chocolate brown pools were darted to her, trying to not doubt her expectancies. "So what were you about to say right now?"

"One of the patients was widely awake by causing turmoil and Frank needed to check on him what his fit of madness was." In the meantime, the younger man's hands were into his slacks' pockets uneasily, locking up hazelish-brown irises. "And yeah, it wasn't that problematic at all, but Frank yelled at him to not wake up the rest of the patients in the men's wing." Suddenly, the British compatriot swallowed a solid, sour lump, formed in his throat. Meantime, the sister of the church's smile wiped off from her face once she heeded her boss wasn't the same. Her heart arched to figure out lastly what was bothering him by posing the question directly shortly after her monologue dies. "For heaven sake, what's going on, Timothy? You seem quite disquiet today."

"Sometimes I've my own times when the personal problems just," The British aristocrat produced a stammer in harmonic style as his lips curled at the retaliation as sanguineness tinted his cheeks with sweltering heat crawling beneath its facial skin. "I can't help but still think of it."

"What is bothering ya right away, Timothy?" Wry, dry chuckle tickled the corners of her mouth as she squinted up with childish inquisitiveness at him, nibbling on the silken skin of her bottom plumpish lip. "It's fine if yar not fine with spilling the tea. I didn't mean to pry or something."

"You aren't prying, Jude! I just have an issue in my family."

"Didn't ya lose somebody in a car accident or a divorce befell yar siblings?" Even when the Bostonian knew slightly about the British emigrant's family background and his story in general, she opted to allege what was hiding behind the mask of the man of the cloth, exposing his true face, whether of the goodwill or the evil.

"I just lost my brother John and his wife Beth in a car crash earlier today. My older brother, Daniel phoned me to announce me these heartrending news!" In the interval, the holy woman's heart ached, due to the fact her love interest shared with her what was the crucial reason for his obnoxious drastic change in his demeanor. On one hand, the middle-aged lady wished she didn't ask just moments ago and to be out of his office in a jiff, whilst on other hand she couldn't put a finger on it. Factly, Judy and Timothy possessed an arcanely potent bond which was unexplainable and she couldn't help, howsoever, inquire her favorite priest about his recent condition and the core of it.

Temporal silence arched between both adults as the nun ducked her head meekly, "And they have 2 children. Samantha, who is ten-year-old only, while her younger brother Charlie is with 5 years her junior. They're so young without their parents."

"I'm very sorry to hear all this, Timothy! I'm sure yar mother can take care of them or Daniel, yar older brother, at least!"

"My mother can't, whilst Daniel is on a business trip for almost a month in Ireland, which means the only person," Timothy stuttered, struggling to peel a single word after the severe loss of John and Beth as one of his hands was no longer into his slacks' pockets, taking the fidgety, petite hand of his right hand into his larger, amusingly warm one as the thumb kneaded the back of her hand, in order to absorb mutual console and warmness. "Who must be responsible for Samantha and Charlie are me."

"Oh! But I'm sure ya can't look after them on yar own all alone, Timothy! Ya need a helping hand." In the meanwhile, the blonde puffed an inward, sorrowful inhale. "Why yar mother can't look after the kids?"

"She's quite old and too heartbroken so that to ensure them what's exactly needed until Daniel is back." Meantime, the holy woman relished the moment when her hand was squeezed into the Monsignor's larger, creamy as satin one. "Moreover, you're absolutely right! I need a helping hand to take care of these rays of sunshine." Suddenly, he paused by taking his time to ponder and sorting his mind for a rational response especially about the concept of his right hand being their foster mother and they supervise the half-orphans since he has thought Jude would be an amazing mother with the children, regardless little did he know about her past and she was too old to bare her own child. "And I think the ideal mother for them since Beth is no longer among us is you!"

"M-Me?" With her solely free hand, the pious woman of the cloth pawed with the palm of her hand her chest, indicating the frequent, vigorously hammering fragile heart into her ribs cage as she the least expected Timothy would have chosen her as his deceased brother children's foster mother. A slight, tearfully merry smile flourished upon her porcelain, scarcely wrinkled face.

"Yes, rare bird! Just 2 of us being their parents, no matter how insane it sounds to you!"

"Ya don't have any idea how much I yearned to be a mother. I'd love to be Samantha and Charlie's mother, of course!" A slight, content smile through the tear-stained, ruddy complexion shimmered, vibrantly contrasting after the heavy rain of emotions and feelings, poured into a monotonous symphony. The younger man didn't necessitate any explaination for the Bostonian being infertile especially in this stage of her life. She was beyond touched by his kindness and offer as well. "But hold on a second, what about yar Rome dream and being a Cardinal and then the Pope?"

"I'll gladly resign from the church as these celestial opportunities to rise in the hierarchy are no longer part of my care. I just want to be a normal man with his own mere needs and concerns, not a priest, who can't taste once in his life something delightful just like the general population."

"Ya know what, Timothy?" The older lady earned promptly her boss's attention with her mumble in honeyed voice as he thrummed, bobbed his head in agreement, acknowledging her instant response. "I'm coming with ya and from tomorrow we will formally resign from the church."

"And don't forget, I'll book our tickets for London and we will be able finally being parents of 2 spectacular children." In the interval, the younger man chewed his bottom, pale-pinkish lip, followed by dramatic, reluctant clearing of his throat. "Do you remember what I promised you?"

"Mhm."

"Wherever you go, I go!" The aspiring, Monsignor whispered in velvety voice, reminding his right hand his solemn promise.

"Yeah, I do! I'm completely sure ya will be a wonderful father with them."

"I bet you're going to be a great mother with them. I can already imagine how purely they will love you." The British compatriot could already drown in the reverie of his love interest being a caring, doting and selfless mother with the half-orphans by playing with them cards or their dolls, running around the grandiose yard of the luxurious, monumental two-story, Victorian style mansion as their joyous laughs and screams float in the background in the sunniest or the cloudiest days of the year and helping them with their difficult homework if they struggled, in case.


	15. Fated Parents II NUNSIGNOR

Author's Brief Note: I'd like to apologize for these sloppy and bland one-shots, nonetheless I opted to use my imagination as much as possible to please my readers as well, so please bear with me! In addition to, I forgot to mention in the first part of this one-shot, howsoever, Jude and Timothy are actually their real ages as Jude is eventually 60, whereas Timothy is 15-20 her junior ones. Moreover, I hope you like and enjoy this one-shot as well! So much love for everybody! 3

\- _A Few Days Later_ -

\- _7th of October, 1964_ -

A few days after resigning from the church and the former members of the clergy haven't missed their exceeding flight for London, England, subsequently their impending destination was the two-story monumental mansion as their entire luggage was into their hands. Moreover, once they arrived in the British compatriot's mansion, the potent bond was warmly welcomed by Teresa, despite the heartbreak that was enveloping her flimsy heart.

During the first days since the former devotional, aspiring members of the church's arrival, Samantha was bashful around the blonde, whereas Charlie was interacting to his foster mother, due to the fact they quickly became fond of one another without an ado.

As soon as the days were elapsing as swiftly as a summer breeze and the heartache over John and Beth was gradually pettering out as they attended their funeral right on the morning after their arrival, Jude and Timothy were spending the majority of their spare time with Samantha and Charlie though they didn't overlook Teresa as well.

Whilst Teresa was sitting on the rocking chair in the living room, located on the first floor by watching a photo album with her 3 sole sons being photographed in their childhood years as they were posing alongside each other on the mansion's porch, in the meanwhile, the Bostonian was teaching to dance the brunette, squeezing her hands in a sufficiently firm grasp so that to not wound or leave any marks of welts or bruises on her brittle, parchment skin.

The both females were recently in the living room as the former devotional woman of the cloth was taking steps forward, while the little girl followed them docilely without violating the instructions.

"_When you just give love__ a__nd never get love__! __You'd better let love depart__! __I know it so__!_" Since I fell for you was recently by Lenny Welch playing on the radio in the guests' room as the vocalist's eloquent, serene voice was chanting the lyrics.

"Come on, cupcake! Follow yar Mommy's steps!" The blonde evoked out cheerfully, emboldening her to not give up as they were all alone in the guests' room which was sufficiently expansive for them to dance.

"You're a wonderful dancer, Mommy!" Mirthful squeal zinged her thin, rosy-coloured lips, without averting her big hazelish-sapphire pools from her foster mother.

Samantha was actually a ten-year-old girl, who possessed pale as snow skin tone, followed by hazelish-sapphire orbs which she has inherited as a mix from her biological parents. Her rosy-coloured, button nose were taken after her deceased mother, whereas the hair texture and the chestnut pigment were inherited on the contrary from her father, John.

"Thank ya, sweetheart! Mommy used to dance a lot, while singing which wasn't a big deal at all." In the interval, the former man of the cloth and Charlie were propping on the doorframe of the guests' room, contemplating in rejoicing way the both females, who were allowing the music's rhythm to control them. Beaming, elated smiles were smeared across their lips, admiring the sight of their bouncing lion manes that ideally framed their sheerly angelic faces, their dresses' hems flaring across their knees as bonfire's blazing flames which were igniting its rings.

She looked beautiful with her free, wild halo ringlet of glossy old Hollywood aureate tresses that were piled up on her shoulders were incessantly bouncing in a choir, the casual, indoor pale violet with V neckline as its cotton hem cascaded down to her knees dress was hugging her yet appealing, ageless for sixty-year-old lady figure caught the younger man off guard. Even judging her radiant, genuinely beatifical smile, honed up in the corner of her lips as her sole make-up which was actually her natural make-up and the warmest honey which produced its luster in the corner of his rejoicing in its glimmering chocolate brown irises, admiring her ethereally endless beauty.

It has been a couple of days in row since the former ambitious Monsignor has seen his rara avis as glamorously beautiful as he could imagine out of her dark, wool, rigidly shapeless habit and tiresome, conservative wimple. His vivid, explicit blizzard of thoughts made him to forget about his older sibling and his wife's sudden deaths, factly, he was already hexed by his right hand especially being readily natural.

Absenting signs of efforts and make-up rendered her to be brighter than the brightest star in the darkest sky in the evening hours.

His ivory, still firm anterior teeth nibbled on the silky skin of his bottom berry-coloured lip, when his sandstorm of thoughts were filming its explicit, graphic images of her lion mane of silken honey curls bouncing in a choir, whereas her naturally rosy-coloured, luscious lips muffled the loudest and the most steamy moans that vibrated through her throat. Their epidermis being smeared in goosebumps as their fleshes contacted and they were grinding one another.

"Hey, Daddy! Don't you want to join and dance with them?" All of a sudden, the young boy poked gently, friendly his foster father's forearm to earn his urgent attention without vexing him.

"Oh, Chuck! I'm sorry for being so distracted, sweetie!" Meantime, the former holy man lowered his stare, meeting his magnetically insisting stare, locking up them. His colossal, soothingly smooth as velvet hand stroke featherly his curly blond hair, admiring its softness. "Of course, Daddy is going to dance with them! Do you want too, Chuck?"

"I do, of course!" At the moment, the little boy grabbed his father's hand, dragging him towards the dancing pair as they emitted joyful giggles, echoing their oral caverns.

"_You made me leave my happy home__! __You took my love, and now you've gone__since I fell for you__! __Love brings such misery and pain__!_" The song was yet playing in the background.

"Oh hey, Tim and Chuck!" The older lady squealed as if she was on cloud nine, noting the pair of dancing males as they swapped their positions and partners as Timothy's both mammoth, creamy as baby skin hands were clawing his love interest's fragile shoulders, whilst the siblings were dancing together and spinning each other. "I haven't been expecting ya so far."

"We finished with my homework and that's why we got bored by joining your company instead." The youngest Howard replied as optimism cusped his glassy childish voice.

"Hi, rare bird!" In the meanwhile, the former holy man sensed awakwardness growling in the middle of his stomach, when his pristine legs were timidly following hi dancing partner's steps mechanically, without averting his chocolate brown eyes from her still drop-dead gorgeous, long as towers legs which swayed fluently in the rhythm like frequently flapping bird wings. "I just helped the little Chuck to finish his homework."

"Oh! Wasn't it difficult for the little guy?"

"It was and that's why we did together."

"_I guess I'll never be the same__since I fell for you__! __Well it's too bad, and it's too sad__but I'm in love with you__!_"

"I'm glad ya did it together. I'm so proud of the little Chuck is a smart little boy." The blonde muffled a murmur, lingering on her tongue, when her crush spun her spirally, giggling inwardly, merrily. "And I'm proud of ya for helping him for the homework. Ya did a brilliant job!"

"He is undeniably smart boy, Judy! Trust me, we share our own ideas along how to solve the solution as well."

"We do the same with Sammy! She's doubtlessly intelligent girl too." The Bostonian rested her chin on the broad, muscly shoulder of the former man of the cloth, shutting tightly her eyelids as the ambience intensified for them suddenly. She attempted to not admire the alluring cologne which was besprinkled lightly on his pale neck.

"Jude?"

"Huh?"

"Do you know what?"

"N-No!" The former sister of the church mumbled in stutter as her warm breath tickled the former man of the cloth's ear.

"_You love me, then you snub me__, b__ut what can I do, I'm still in love with you__! __Well, I guess I'll never see the light__! __I get the blues most every night__!_"

"Not only these children are so special and I'm terribly happy to have them by my side, but also," All of a sudden, the younger man hemmed by pulling Jude in a tight, kindhearted hug as his chest was pressed on hers, digesting warmness as their faces were buried in the crook of their necks, relishing the platonically romantic moment they mutually shared with one another.

At the moment, Samantha and Charlie's childishly elated, glistening the most vibrant nuances orbs were goggled on the couple as they were in awe, admiring them. Further, they halted to dance as they were warily, utterly focused on the former saintly members of the church, whose body language were proving them something might happen to them, keeping their wits about it.

"They're authentic children, Tim! It's unbelievable luck we've chosen the better direction in our lives rather than being miserable, self-centered members of the church, ya know." The Bostonian exclaimed through a hoarse, firm-accented snicker as Timothy joined her.

"It's not only that, but also I'm unspeakably lucky and gleeful to have you by my side and these children being blessed with such a spectacular mother as you're." Shortly after they broke off the hug, they took their time to admire one another's enthralling facial features as the younger man cupped the former nun's face in the palms of his inescapably warm, creamy as satin hands. Meanwhile, Judy's both slim arms were hooked around his upper back as they looked up into one another's porcelain, milky as vanilla complexions. "And I've always sensed some kind of inevitable fear in you for confessing your feelings for me which you've stored up inside you for years, however, I can tell you what, Jude! You shouldn't be afraid of me, nor of the feelings and the impulse, which urges you to spit them out directly." The younger man exhaled sharply, seconds before concede its sequel of his monologue by removing one of his hands from her face by snatching in a balled fist a velvet, compact scarlet box with a proposal ring.

"Urm," The former licentious jazz nightclub singer stammered mutter which was solely audible for her, carving her lips in a pensive, dumbfounded purse.

"_S__ince I fell for you__! __Since I fell for you__!_" In the interim, the song ebbed out in the background.

"It's alright, Jude!" Meantime, the children eagerly transfixed their eyes on the both adults as they were expecting a proposal in a jiffy. The younger man pressed his soft, baby pinkish lips on the blonde's one, sealing them in a soft, steamy kiss as they melted into it. "I've to confess anything."

"I've either!"

"Is Daddy proposing Mommy?" The brunette whispered to her younger brother as they were feeling like a third wheel for the both adults.

"How do you think, Sammy? Let's go tell Granny about Mommy and Daddy." Rejoicing, quiet sniggers tickled the corners of their tiny mouths as they fled the guests' room, throughout pacing in the hallway to find the living room and call their grandmother to witness the proposal scene.

"Go ahead for yours!"

"Urm, I don't know how to say it, but I was afraid of exposing my genuine feelings which weren't exactly approximate to the friends' ones, in fact, ya know. We were people of the cloth and I thought yar Rome dream was more important than the friends, love and family. However, it looks like I was wrong. I guessed correctly ya feel the same like me." The older lady's smile couldn't suppress its escalation in its growth like a blooming tree's crown in the wee days of the balmy seasons. The revelation left her lips like a timelessly eternal soul, dwelling out of a mortal's corpse in a jiff. "I've to admit since the beginning and the moment when I laid my eyes on ya, I couldn't help but being under yar spell, Timothy! Thanks to ya, I'm happier and I wear constantly smile every time I see ya or I hear yar voice. Yar like a ray of sunshine for me and just like Sammy and Chuck, ya know! But in different ways."

"I wish we left the church earlier for better, in fact, you have been nurturing me and helped me to reach my goals until this atrocious news were just broken to me but," In the interval, the former aspiring Monsignor posed in a proposal pose by opening the miniature, velvet box with the small, humble pearly precious ring as the former sister of the church's brittle eyelids were flooded in dew of moistness, verging crystal tears to spring up like toy-out-of-the-box and tumble down her face like cataract, Her both elvish, milky as vanilla hands clamped her mouth as ebullient, crystal tears dripped from her eyelids, bearing semblance of early morning dew, mildly drenching her facial skin. She was flabbergastingly blissful when she was being proposed especially by the love of her life. "Judy Martin, you've been always my ray of sunshine and thanks to you and the dynamic roller coaster we've been through those years, we don't need to be revered Pope and Mother Superior so that to be ultimately happy! You're one of the essential reasons why I smile and you bring me so much joy! Judy, my entire universe and whole world, the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, will you marry me?" In the meantime, the schoolers and Teresa scarcely stepped inside the guests' room as they were propping on the Victorian style doorframe.

"How to not marry ya, Tim! Ya have been the sweetest gentleman I've ever met and I've ever laid eyes on." At the moment, the former woman of the cloth scooped in a tight, warm hug her fiancé shortly after the pearly precious ring slipped her finger, muffling her euphorically uncontrollable, impulsive exclaimation.

\- _A Handful of Years Later_ -

\- _15th of November, 1967 _-

3 years have elapsed as quickly as a light summer breeze as Samantha and Charlie have rapidly grew through the years, whereas the former devotional members of the clergy have been married for 3 years. Furthermore, Teresa was still alive.

Whilst Timothy was seating on the leather sofa as his wife was sitting on his lap, they were watching a photo album with collected as piece of memories Polaroid, vintage photos of themselves through the years. From the last days before being wed couple up to nowadays. Their irises were darted to the photographs by flipping pages per a few minutes after commenting the particular pictures and giggling.

The winter was approaching soon along with the wee hints of winter's episodical weather, resulting glacially chilly days and the first snow.

"Look at ya, handsomer!" The older woman pointed with a slim forefinger at their wedding picture how they were sitting on the dining table, masticating from their vanilla wedding cake. "Isn't the gluttony yar sin, sweetie? Huh?" She quipped, slapping his kneecap with her only free hand.

"No! You were the one, who ate more than me." The British aristocrat exclaimed in jeering manner as the both former members of the church couldn't repress guttural cackles as they boated in the living room.

"What horseshit! I eat moderately, Tim!"

Suddenly the living room's door was slammed as the both adolescents entered in the room, joining the married couple as their light, excited footsteps approached them within seconds.

"Hey, Mommy and Daddy! What are ya watching?"The siblings enquired in unison, peeping over the both adults' shoulders as they noticed they were contemplating photo album photographs.

"Ah, hi, sweethearts!" In this moment, the adolescents bended as their cheeks were peppered with tender, feather kisses as the married couple's lips greased their facial skins. "We're just watching photos of ourselves."

"You're astonishing together." The younger sibling evoked out.

"Aww, really? Thank you, sweetheart! That's so sweet of you, Chuck!" The British aristocrat replied optimistically as a beaming, cheerful smile cradled his pale-pinkish lips.

"You're the best couple I've ever seen." The brunette squealed rejoicingly as she bit her lip begrudgingly. Meanwhile, the both children joined their foster parents by seating alongside them from the both sides on the sofa even without asking their peculiar permission.

"We're just a lovely couple, my darlings!" The Bostonian added, giggling as she stroke delicately, lovingly Samantha and Charlie's heads, admiring the crispy softness of their hairs. "I love ya more than anything kids!" Then she turned to the younger man, pursuing his lips to be captured with her ferociously insatiable, naturally rosy-coloured ones. "I love ya so much, Timothy!" In the meanwhile, the children were rather focused on the Polaroid, vintage photos in the photo album as their hearts molted at the former holy woman's heartwarming words.

"I love you much more, my rare bird!" Timothy pressed his lips on hers, subsequently capturing them in a hardening, sultry kiss as the children were oblivious for them.


	16. Moonlight Kisses ELOTHY

Author's brief note: I know this one-shot is going to be weird for some people, nevertheless, I don't care! It's with one of my dream couples if it's not Nunsignor and Marsifino, subsequently being Elsa x Timothy or rather Elothy! Anyway I know how many Nunsignor and Marsifino shippers are going to despise me after they read this one-shot with Elothy. The crossover idea of one-shot with a Freak show and an Asylum character doesn't make me to oppress it by scribbling it directly.  
I hope you like and enjoy it as well!

An ordinary night as the other nights was elapsing episodically in Florida and nowhere else in Florida than Jupiter.

Hive of tiny, shimmering with its palish gilt stars outnumbered the sole moon that was gleaming its pale light underneath its round shape. The balmy summer evening was spreading like a contagious, lethal plague the light summer breeze, tickling and playing with every surrounder in the nocturnal, summer's rhythm.

The freaks have already being gathered in their own cabins after their mother figure, Elsa's show and she insisted to have a private meeting with one of her recent visitors these weeks who not only was her keen fan, moreover liked her shows.

The British compatriot had ginormous ambitions to join the church by becoming the first ever Anglo-American Pope with 2 homelands. Nonetheless, he gradually was being spellbinded by nobody else than the German emigrant. Each time he paid a visit to the grandiose tent where her evening shows took its place, the younger man couldn't help but be more head over heels in love with her.

Eventually Timothy admired Elsa not only for her glamorous looks with its bright colors, donning her slender body, furthermore her ginormous talent in singing, her band of freaks being excellently organized with its musical instruments' play and acrobats, additionally rendering more entertaining her shows.

The British compatriot had ginormous ambitions to join the church by becoming the first ever Anglo-American Pope with 2 homelands. Nonetheless, he gradually was being spellbinded by nobody else than the German emigrant. Each time he paid a visit to the grandiose tent where her evening shows took its place, the younger man couldn't help but be more head over heels in love with her.

Eventually Timothy admired Elsa not only for her glamorous looks with its bright colors, donning her slender, still appealing body with its impressive, swan curves, furthermore her ginormous talent in singing with its eloquence and melodiousness, tinting her voice, besides her band of freaks being excellently organized with its musical instruments' play and acrobats, additionally rendering more entertaining her shows.

Although Elsa's gloomy past and being a former prostitute in the foul hotels and motels of Berlin, besides Hans Grupper being responsible for amputating her legs, Timothy still believed Elsa was a good person with a big and golden heart by rescuing the freaks from orphanages or the fate of wandering the filthy, smeared in its garbage chunks' streets as neglected outsiders of the society. The British aristocrat has never focused on the vices and the licentious, grim past of the German emigrant by judging her since he genuinely believed she has utterly changed and she doesn't want even to recall any fragment from the solved somber puzzle of its pieces of sins and mistakes.

At first, the younger man couldn't believe his own luck that the freak show owner has invited him especially privately in her own tent. Just 2 of them. Little did Timothy know what awaited him and what kind of a conversation they would moot whether having a drink or smoking or both under the moonlight as its paly light dribbled like dropped bombs over a land as a war episode.

His oxford shoes stomped the shadowed grass due to its nocturnal shadows lurking like demons, following the older woman up to her tent, which was her small house where she could share a drink with her special guests. His berry-coloured, dry lips buzzed a melodious hum inwardly as soon as he stepped inside the middle-aged lady's tent.

"What are you humming?" The blonde inquired with immense inquisitiveness, vomited in her inquiry by ushering him to enter in the guests' room by glancing at the en-suite bedroom the king-sized bed, whilst he couldn't repress the lump, formed in his throat haphazardly by swallowing it hard at her question and when his pristine chocolate brown pools with its warmest chocolate pigment, pigmenting his pools. A boyish, sheepish smile kissed his lips.

"N-Nothing! I was just humming, Ms. Mars!" Timothy opted to show politeness as much as possible without disregarding her just as a licentious woman she used to be.

"Oh really? By the way you hummed, you're so cute!" Elsa's compliment flattered Timothy as they seated on the sofas against one another.

"Thank you, Ms. Mars!" His chubby, well-defined cheeks tinted ruddily as if the relentless winter glacial wind grazed his facial skin with its glacial climate. Mild vexation was painted across the German emigrant's porcelain, yet young-looking complexion, highlighting her facial features. "That's so kind of you!" Humbleness crafted his tongue with his velvety voice.

"Oh, Timothy! Stop calling me Miss Mars or whatever comes to your mind as a formal address to me!" She puffed a vexed sigh, flaring its oxygen from the top of her lungs as a jetpack by getting from the couch to prepare 2 empty, untouched glasses for liquor to treat her special guest tonight. "Am I clear?" Gamely wink was shot at him as a cupid arrow when she turned to him for a split second as a blissful, cocky grin honed up in the corner of her ruby-coloured lips.

"Okay, Elsa!" He bobbed his head in timid agreement, seizing his lips in a pensive, coy purse as his heart vigorously hammered in his ribs cage when the middle-aged woman was about to treat him with an alcoholic beverage. "I'm sorry for being too formal. I just,"

"Don't excuse yourself, Timothy! Feel special for being a guest in my tent tonight." Husky, wry chuckle zinged her lips as an endless soul dwelling out of a former mortal's corpse instantly. "What would you like to drink?"

"I don't want anything with any quantity of alcohol."

"Oh! Don't be too modest, Timothy! Wouldn't you like some whiskey at least?"

"Sure!" He gladly accepted so that to not test her patience with his stubborn rejects of alcohol's offer, whilst she removed the tap of the whiskey, consequently pouring its sinful, sweet liquor in 2 scotch glasses by handing him directly and afterwards holding her own scotch glass thereafter, resitting against him. "Thank you!"

"No need to! It's time to raise a toast for the special guest and the Freak show owner's night." They raised their scotch glasses with its potent liquor, without averting their gazes from each other, whereas the glasses clinked by colliding like foreign asteroids into the planets. "Cheers, Tim!"

"Cheers, Elsa!" Shortly after their glasses clinked, the both adults gulped wee sips of the sweet, sinful whiskey, throughout searing the corners of their mouth and delicate lips' skins, besides lacing their tongues with its insatiable yearn to savor more from the scrumptious, contagious liquor. "What made you to invite me over here by sharing a drink?"

"I hope you ask this question for first and last time, because I'll answer it right away without even hearing it coming from your lips ever again, okay?" Meantime, the British compatriot nodded excitedly as a curios child by licking greedily, gamely his lips after savoring once whiskey since it has been years when he savored any alcoholic beverage. "Good! So I've noticed that you're among the most active fan of mine or rather a fan of mine, who watches me every night without even getting tired." A sharp, aflared exhale constricted her brittle lungs, shortly before commencing with her rational monologue by sorting her blizzard of thoughts to come up with a reasonable response to his question that she promised wittily to give its honest and emphatic answer for last time. "I can notice how much do you support me and I'm making you a smile with my acrobat skills and singing, besides my family being a great addition to my show." In the interval, Timothy bobbed shyly his head, affirming her words as the sole truth that was cusping on the horizon without ebbing off. "And I can tell with your frequent visits, you're interested in me more than just a fan, if I'm not mistaking."

"How do you think?" Meanwhile, he quirked his thick eyebrow in perplexion, chewing on his lower lip by sipping once again the scotch glass of whiskey to diminish its embarrassment.

Temporal silence arched between the both adults as the singer arched elegantly her eyebrow, thrumming. "Hmm! Do not make me question your ogles and boyish smiles, Timothy, because it won't work!"

"I don't know how to say this, but I really like you." His face all flushed as pinkish clouds fogged the entire sky during the esthetic sunset. In the interim, he ducked his head in shame and bashfulness.

"At least, you said it and your smiles and stares prove it, Timothy!" The firm German accent accentuated her exclaimation, gulping a couple of tiny sips of the liquor that burned the corners of her mouth. "Do you truly mean all this?"

"Yes, I really mean it, Elsa!"

"I can sense your sincerity." Raspy, sarcastic chuckle emitted her bloody red lips, seconds before her painted lips grazed the glass of whiskey. "What would you put before me as priorities or so forth?"

"I-I don't have priorities, more superb than you."

"Oh, come on, shy boy! Spill the tea at least there's something more important than me, I bet!" Even when the singer's murderous sarcasm lingered on her tongue, mild jealousy constricted her chest at the thought of Timothy having priorities, more superb compared to the crush he had on Elsa. "I'm sure the silence is disagreeing with you."

"Urm, I had plans of joining the church by becoming the first Anglo-American Pope with huge ambitions to raise in the patriarchy, despite," The British aristocrat paused by swallowing hard again, squinting up his chocolate brown orbs at her hazelish-brown orbs, without averting them away. "Despite since I'm coming here to watch your shows, I immediately changed my mind. And I thought twice what's better than the power and the reverence you earn from the general population, just because you're a priest and then Pope if the work is absolutely hard through the years." In the meantime, the former promiscuous prostitute attentively listened to her guest without peeling a single word, in order to disrespect him as his self-conscious, honeyed voice with its firm British accent rang heavenly tunes into her ears. "I think the love is stronger than the reverence you've earnt and it's not just because you want it. It's just something that entirely changes you. From self-centered person, hungry for power and honor, you become selfless, caring and loving. I don't regret I haven't joined the church yet. It's," Timothy ogled at the older woman as a boyish, modest smile touched his lips with its gentle caress at the warmhearting words he spat as a cobra's venom. Elsa was profoundly touched by his words. He opted to not admire her ethereal beauty, although her honey brown pools were slyly scrutinizing his body language and each manner of his at the moment. "It's you. Thanks to you and the show, you've inspired many people, I wouldn't be here. I'd be now a priest."

Silence consumed them for a split second as Elsa guzzled the rest of the pooling alcoholic beverage.

"I'm so glad to hear that I changed your mind as soon as possible."

As they spent a half an hour in getting to know one another and sharing a handful of more glasses of whiskey, afterwards they felt their bodies being under the control of the alcohol, almost incapable of controlling themselves especially the younger man since he almost never drinks anything with any quantity of alcohol, whether small or big.

"Timothy! C'mere!" The German emigrant persistently ordered to her guest as she reclined on the sofa, maunevering him to come with her petite, creamy hand as an obedient, guiltless puppy.

When Timothy got from the couch by approaching Elsa, docilely following her instructions, he seated on the edge of the couch, looking up at her with a benevolent, sheerly innocent smile, cradling his pale-pinkish lips.

"What are we doing?"

"You will see what we're exactly doing." In the interval, impulsively the British aristocrat leant against the older woman as their faces' proximity was scarcely an inch. His warm, nonetheless whiskey-stained breath featherly brushed her facial skin, tickling her rubiscend tinted cheeks with its sweltering heat, crawled underneath its flesh.

"I've never felt this ever before."

"Don't be shy! Just feel like what it's natural for you."

All of a sudden, Timothy's baby pinkish, damp lips captured Elsa's rubiscund into a light, hardening kiss by shutting tightly their eyelids, melting into the kiss as his both colossal, amusingly warm hands cupped her cheeks in the palms of his hands, whereas Elsa's lean arms were clasped around his neck, being clung to him. Whiskey stained lips contacted by molting in its luscious lips. As their kisses grew ferociously aggressive, Elsa's tongue tip manipulated Timothy's to duel along in a choir until either of them plungs it. As their wet, liquor-stained tongues were dancing altogether, suddenly the blonde plugged hers into his mouth, deepening into a French kiss as the younger man's berry-coloured lips slithered from hers, indicating vertically until they peaked up to her neck. The middle-aged lady cocked back her head, giving him a better access to her pale as ghost, delicate neck as the light, loving kisses were peppered all over the flesh until they grew more savage as he used technically his teeth to nibble on the silkness. In the meantime, she muffled husky, quiet moans and groans, whilst her slim, adroit fingers were encouragingly playing with his dark hair.

"You're very amazing, Timothy! I didn't know a virgin like you would be such an incredible Romeo." The singer couldn't suppress a hoarse in low voice snigger, tickling the corners of her mouth. "Fuck yeah! You're doing wonders to me with these whiskey-stained lips, teeth and saliva."

Once he returned his lips up to her by faintly salivating her neck, subsequently he sealed her lips with his in a doting, feather kiss before withdrawing their faces by taking their time to admire one another's facial features.

"Oh whoa! That's undeniably wonderful." Timothy groaned in low voice satisfied.

"I can't disagree with you. I can really confess I like you too. Very much!"


	17. Rain Kisses NUNSIGNOR

Author's Note: This one-shot is from the New Beginning, of course, especially by judging the custom characters, besides the events or dates that are associated with the original story, itself! Do not kill me for writing anything by finishing with kisses or something one-shots lately! I just try to please you as my readers or fans, instead of keeping you wait for days even weeks! Anyway I hope you like and enjoy this one-shot as Wings of Light and Without you await me!

\- _25th of October, 1969_ -

Late October. Autumn's assault has just affected as the black plague not only urban Boston, but also the outskirts of the small city of Massachusetts. Rainy day. Just a normal day like the other ones since the world's creation. Nevertheless, there was one phenomenon that some people love or even worshipped it more than anything. Or rather despised it. Or brought them the most glowing smile, smeared across their lips. Or found it for romantic by sharing a kiss, drenching themselves under the rain's natural spell. Their hairs, their attires, their fleshes were soaked. Even the kiss was wet and that's a rain kiss.

Halloween was within a week or even slightly less than a week. Whether if it rained or not on Halloween, it was just a normal day for certain people, whilst for Halloween's keen fans it was just a miracle to wait annually for their favorite holiday to knit them in a grim, late October's embrace by disguising themselves as something eerie or even supernatural which didn't give any eerie vibes at all.

It was an evening time in Boston as its outskirts and anywhere in the small city was baptized in nocturnal darkness. A moon hovering in the sky with its palish light that gleamed its surroundings below. One of a kind moon being outnumbered by a million swarm of shimmering gilt stars, twinkling and shimmering in the nocturnal sky. The fragily and flimsily crispy in variety colors leaves have already tumbled down from the grand trees, shaping a luxurious, satin carpet of leaves outdoors.

The entire family has already finished with having a dinner in the wee hours of the evening as the twins, Ellie and Tristan were poised on their mother's arms securely, whilst she was sitting on the porch and watching the heavy rain pouring and pouring. Light autumn breeze tickled delicately their hairs and fleshes. In the meanwhile, Timothy was washing the dishes, whereas Agnes was accompanying her father and scrutinizing his mechanics of furbishing the filthy, already used dishes and eating tools.

"Do ya see little angels what God graced us this Saturday night?" The blonde rocked lightly the kindergarteners, pecking feather, affectionate kisses on the top of their heads with her naturally rosy-coloured, soft as velvet lips that grazed featherly their facial skins. The warmest honey pigmented her honey brown orbs that shot a beatific glance at them, giggling quietly to herself as it was solely distinct for her.

"Ya, Mommy! It's a pwetty rain." The brunette girl evoked out, inhaling inwardly the fresh, quiescent fragrance of the nature and rain, waffling her sensitive nostrils. Her big caramel brown pools were transfixed on the rain in awe, admiring the nature's ambience and aesthetics.

"As pretty as my both lovely cherub angels for sure!" In the interval, their cheeks were peppered with doting, sweet kisses as they lightly giggled. "I think it hasn't rained for days as it saddens me."

"But I luv rain, Mommy!" The younger twin's whine scratched his brittle lungs.

"I know, I know, Tris! Who doesn't love rain?"

"Only Agnes!" Ellie emphasized her younger sister's name sardonically.

"She's too young. She's scarcely two-year-old girl, honey!" A sharp exhale surged from the top of the former woman of the cloth's frail lungs. "Whether she's 5 years old or 15, we shall see how much she likes the rain."

"Mommy?"

"Yes, darling?" The older twin caught her mother's attention in no time with her questioning while suckling her thumb as it was plugged in her mouth, while the former devotional holy man overlooked since it's going to be bland to caution her daughter it's unhealthy and unpleasant at all.

"Can we be under the rain and soak us?"

"How do ya think?" In the interim, the twins bobbed their heads in agreement optimistically elated, thrumming melodically with their thin lips in a choir as a beaming, jeering smile cradled Jude's rosy-coloured lips. "But it's actually no, because I don't want ya to be sick by catching cold and cough like donkeys, besides it's a high time for bed."

"Nooo, Mommy! I'm not sleepy." The older twin's shrill, capricious whine verged to cause bleed as a minimal harm physically to the middle-aged lady, while shushing to them quietly, encouraging them to subdue their whines and pleas.

"Neither I'm." Tristan replied as his lower lip carved in a pout. "Please, Mommy, we're not sleepy!"

"Shu, shu, cupcakes! Yar supposed to be asleep very soon since tomorrow awaits ya a big adventure in the kindergarten and the teacher will be mad at ya for not collecting enough sleep by being like mindless zombies on the morning after."

Once the former sister of the church entered inside the hall by carrying the twins up to their room to put them down to sleep since it was a high time they to slumber without an ado, all of a sudden her husband's voice caught her off guard as her heart raced. At first, she thought Timothy and Agnes were oblivious for her since her attention was utterly focused on the eldest heirs of their.

"Are you going to put them down to sleep?" The British compatriot cried out loud plainly, whereas taking Agnes into his arms by planting a gentle, loving kiss on her forehead afterwards.

"Yes, sweetheart! It's finally a bedtime for them."

"But Daddy?" The youngest Howard enquired with her childish voice as her smile ebbed off at the thought of bedtime, pouting her rosy-coloured, plumpish lips.

"What is it my little bird?" His velvety voice accentuated the reply with an inquiry, pinching playfully, lovingly her nose with a few fingers to distract her from the negative thoughts and whines that awaited him as shadows and demons.

"I'm not sweepy at all." The little girl complained coldly with lack of emotion in her utterance, whereas his mammoth, veiny hand delicately, dotingly stroke her lion mane of glossy aureate tresses, cascading her shoulders.

"I know, sweetie! But since your siblings are laid down to sleep, therefore you should be either, Agnes!"

"Nooooo!"

"Shu, shu, shu, honey! You mustn't be upset at all. You're still growing and the lack of sleep isn't good for you at all." Meantime, the former holy man rocked and swayed in the scooped embrace his ray of sunshine as his pale-pinkish lips produced a silver-tongued, soothing hum, ringing joyous tunes into her petite ears. "The upsetness doesn't even look beautiful on you, my beautiful little princess." He rocked her once again as her squeal subdued in the background as Timothy walked away from the kitchen, still holding her in his strong, muscly arms.

As soon as the British compatriot towered the stairway to the second floor and stepping inside the children's room, he put Agnes in her bassinett, whereas Jude was lulling eloquently to the twins, caressing gingerly, featherly their yet growing hairs.

"But I'm not sweepy, Daddy!" The youngest girl muttered, curling her lips in a pout.

"It's not my fault, baby girl! Come on, do you want a bedtime story or a lullaby?"

"Nothing!"

"Closed up for the night are the roses so red! It's time all little people were going to bed." In the meantime, the Bostonian was chanting a serene lullaby to the twins as they quickly found themselves asleep under the moonlight and the lullaby's spell. A radiant, heavenly smile bloomed as a spring flower bud on his parchment, still young-looking complexion.

Once the former pious members of the clergy laid them down to sleep their rays of sunshines, they sat on the porch by snuggling into one another's arms, knitting their frail skeletons, whereas the heavy rain poured as God's wiping, bawling his sacredly celestial, crystally lazuline orbs moistened with budded tears, rolling down on his cheeks.

"It's undeniably gorgeous tonight." The former licentious jazz nightclub singer's honeyed murmur almost died on her tongue, dancing its rhythm before dripping from her lips as shed blood.

"So as my perfect rare bird that has graced both of us with paulo aves!" He nuzzled the top of her head, incapable of resisting the alluring aroma of her halo ringlet of lustrous old Hollywood gilt tresses, piled up on her shoulders and exquisitely framing her yet youthful, porcelain complexion. A smug, beaming smile flexed her jaw. Her heart wamed promptly when Timothy called not only her own rare bird, furthermore their three of a kind wonderful creations, made of their flesh and blood, paulo aves. "I'm so proud and happy to have you and our rays of sunshines, my rara avis!"

"I'm more proud and happier to have everything especially ya and our cherub angels than anything. That's the sole things that make me really happy." His long, pristinely dexterous fingers delicately played with her curls, twirling and curling them in his fingers as phone's cord, nibbling on the bottom, plumpish pale lip with his anterior ivory teeth. In the meanwhile, the former religious nun melted in the snuggle and his delicate, doting caresses that sent shivers down her frail skeleton of sweetness, pleasure and inevitable lust and love, besides balmy warmness nuzzling her epidermis.

"Darling?"

"Yes, Jude?"

"Let's kiss under the rain." She opted to usher him by managing her elvish, milky as vanilla hand to reach for his colossal, protective one, dragging him as if they were on cloud nine from the porch by drenching themselves under the heavy rain.

Without any pointless or bland reply, the former priest gladly accepted her suggestion as shortly after she pulled him in a warm, wet hug under the heavy rain, her both hands knitted the nape of his delicate, milky as snow neck, whilst his both hands gripped her underneath her inner thighs, being clung to one another as their lips were captured in a hardening, sultry kiss. Her sufficiently long, manicured in ravishing red fingernails scrapped by dragging them in the nape of his neck's flesh, shutting tightly their eyelids. Muffled moans and groans escaped their lips as their lips escalated to aggressively, feudening ferocious until their wet, berry-coloured tongues commenced to dance as he squeezed her small buttocks in the palms, digging his fingertips in the drenched dress's hem. Her legs were wrapped around his waist as her pubic bone poked his bulge. As Jude plugged her tongue inside his mouth, subsequently the former members of the church deepened the steamy kiss in French, whereas the older woman slithered her hands from his neck, making its own way to his belt by unbuckling it swiftly. The heavy rain has already viciously waterlogged them as they sensed their attires were already burden for them under the rain and under the maliciously vehement hex of the rain kiss.

"Oh fucking Christ! I fucking need ya now!" The Bostonian muffled the moan and groan, amalgating with her lustful, insisting plea to feel his skin inside hers. "Inside me, darling!" She couldn't suppress by incapable of breathing for a single second until he laid her gingerly on the grass by removing each other's soaked garments including lingerie that once hugged comfortably their bodies.

"Oh fuck! I want to feel how tight you're for me!"

When they got rid off their already discarded underwear and clothes by tossing them bluntly on the grass, thereafter the former priest's both mammoth, calluously creamy as baby skin hands ran over from her jawline up to her labia slowly but surely, whereas she pawed her round, full breast, while a couple of fingers of her solely free hand was rubbing on circles the buddle of nerves slowly, unable to suppress to inward, sensual moans from the top of her brittle lungs. His darkened, fiendish eyes that once pigmented the warmest coffee brown, they were as fiendishly somber as midnight black. Darker than demon's ones. A haughtily smug smirk brushed his baby pinkish lips. His fingers traced the map of erogenous zones that sent violent, paradoxal paroxysm all over her epidermis, smeared in goosebumps and moistness in the same time. In the interval, her long, still drop-dead gorgeously lean legs were snaked around his waist. Her soaked, greasy lion mane of silky golden tresses was ruffled on the grass above her, shaping a gilt full moon.

As soon as she positioned his hard rock member at her entrance, consequently her both elvish, pale as ghost hands clawed his muscular, broad shoulders for support as they looked up at one another's faces with sheer love, desire and ablaze lust, flaming them seconds before the thrusts. She nibbled on the silken skin of her bottom plump lip.

When the younger man started thrusting inside her, throughout the thrusts were pain and slow as soreful, sultry moans and groans left the middle-aged lady's lips, dragging her nails all over his back, leaving savage traces of her, while his lips landed on her neck by beginning with the feather, affectionate kisses, peppered all over its swan curve of her delicate neck until they escalated for feriocus by using his teeth, nipping its flesh. The thrusts were quicker, less painful even pleasing.

"Oh fuck! Don't stop!" The blonde yelled from the top of her lungs.

"You're so damn tight." The former man of the cloth didn't even pay any kidn of an attention to his cussing. "Rare bird!"

"Yar miraculously awesome! Don't even stop fucking my brains off!" She arched her neck by cocking back her head as the golden catalact peaked up to her mid-back as mermaid. Meanwhile, she rotated vehemently her hips in a choir. Her bare, full breasts brushed his toned torso as her erected nipples were pressed on the other pair of skin.

Their climaxes were approaching with a couple of thrusts until he planted his seed inside her core.

"Oh fuck! Yar so close but I don't want ya to end it." After a couple of thrusts they collapsed on each other's bodies as content giggles tickled the corners of their mouths. They panted effortlessly, whilst she captured his lips in a brief, sensual kiss once again by cupping his cheeks in the palms of her petite, secure hands. "That was fucking awesome!"

"It's amazing when we experiment."

"Don't ya think we have never done such thing evar before? Huh?"

"How do you think?" They couldn't even breath for a split second by hemming sluggishly, scratching their throats, whilst his strong, muscly hands snaked around her slim waist as their hearts heavily, agitetedly hammered in their chests.

"Huh? Don't be ridiculous! We've done a lot of kinky stuff not only at home and experimenting under the rain."

"Whatever! I love you so much, my rara avis!"

"I love you too more than anything, Timothy!"


	18. About a Girl NUNSIGNOR

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**Author's note: This one-shot is going to be about Jude and Timothy being kindergarteners approximately 4-6 years old as Jude is almost 6, whilst Tim is actually 5. Furthermore, that's an Alternate Universe one-shot of them being young children, besides based on one song of Nirvana under the name "About a Girl" by judging its one-shot's name.**

**Anyway I hope you like and enjoy this one-shot as well! :))**

\- ***** **-  
\- _28th of October, 1925 _-

The late October autumn in Boston bear a semblance almost of an early winter with its wee hints of the forthcoming glacial season, substituting the rainy and cloudy one just in a jumpcut. The crispy, pigmented in diversity of warm colours leaves tumbled down from the grandiose, old trees by stripping them off their once crispy, breathtaking autumn crown they formed altogether.

Jude has been attending kindergarten since at age 3, despite her father left her and her mother Esmeralda a few weeks ago, in fact, he was so fed with the humblr lifestyle the family lived and he preferred to move on in his life by dating a rich, nonetheless younger, more appealing lady.

The British compatriot has moved with his family in Boston when he was barely three-year-old and he has changed 2 kindergartens up to now as the current he's attending regularly is his second one. The crucial reason why his family decided to convey him to the recent one was that in previous institution the teacher was so crudely arrogant and sadistic with the childen, instead of treating them last but not least, the first days when he moved in the kindergarten where the Bostonian was attending regularly, at first the young boy thought his peer was eccentric outsider and he feared of interacting to her.

The little girl wasn't genuinely in seventh heaven when she was with her father the last few years, due to the fact he didn't show his true, paternal love to his only child and his love for Esmeralda. Even when her father Gregory dissipated, the young girl was numb and she isolated even more from her peers by sitting by herself, playing absent-mindedly with the crispy, already plunged down leaves by tearing them on tiny pieces with her pudgy, pale as lilly fingers.

Little did the young boy know the real motives why the slightly older girl was distancing herself from the other kindergarteners and seating on the old bench, picking up from the ground a random autumn, flimsily crunchy leaf while the kindergarten's yard became a battlefield of laughs, mirthful childish voices and screams, running infants and playing with each other. The blonde didn't'have any friends and she wasn't even interested in playing with them since some of them considered her peculiarly quirky even anti-social.

When Timothy witnessed the prospect of the bullies, addressing her numberable bad names that have nothing to do with her fragile character, she overlooked them by yet playing with the leaves, he couldn't help but being beyond livid how the hooligans dare to hurt her irrationally. In general, humongous and erupting as an aflare volcano lavic ire was brewing and cooking inside him.

While the wee hours of the afternoon loomed on the horizon in the last days of October, beehive of hoary clouds clouded blanched sky, outnumbering the dim sun which was scarcely part of the late October landscape. Chilly light autumn zephyr danced, fanning the children's hairs and exposed palish fleshes.

The children were still playing gleefully unlike Jude, who was seating on the bench and slowly but surely, clumsily tearing on wee pieces another gathered autumn leaf, parting her naturally rosy-coloured, soft as satin lips in coldhearted, nonchalant pout as she ducked her head, narrowing her big caramel brown orbs at the leaf as if everything else that circled her was oblivious for her. She was living in her own world. Nobody else existed for her with exception herself, the leaf and her only family- her mother as well.

The young boy wasn't very fond of his peers either. Since the last time when the British compatriot noted by the way the outsider was being treated by them, he was beyond disgusted by them and didn't dare even to peel a sugarcoated word with them so that to play with them. Howsoever, when he noticed the young girl dressed in a frugal tawny coat, hugging her frail skeleton, matching with a midnight black box pleated skirt, flaring across her round knees and an alabaster cashmere sweater. Her long mop of flossy gilt tresses piled up on her shoulders as they photogenically framed her round, porcelain complexion and her beautiful, unripened facial features. She looked pretty into the little boy's eyes.

When the timid, boyish footsteps lightly tingled the ground, stomping the crispy leaves that carpeted in a luxurious multicoloured crunchy carpet, the Bostonian didn't avert her glassy, jaded gawk from the leaf, in spite of her sensitive, petite ears otherwise were taunted by the sound, diffusing like radioactive waves. The younger infant seated alongside with a handful of inches proximity his peer at first, landing his cocoa brown pools, fueled with sheer, childlike innocence, warmness and platonic love on her.

"H-Hi!" Bashful stutter dripped from his baby-pinkish, thin lips as a sheepish, benevolent smile smeared across his parchment, round face.

"Hey!" The Bostonian replied him back in low, demure voice, still not looking at him. "What do ya want?"

"I don't want anything else than to be your friend." Even when the British compatriot confessed, the older girl casted squint at the sole child that dared to be amiable to her and most of all sincere.

"They're so mean!" She muttered under her breath, heaving a heavy sigh from the top of her brittle lungs. "They're pricks, who don't know how to socialize with lonely kids like me." In the meantime, the younger infant's corner of his eye followed the motion of the torn leaf by her pudgy, small fingers. He swallowed hard at her heartaching words. "I dislike them with every ounce." The numbing dryness, vomited in her brief monologue ruptured his heart on millions of crystal, flimsily and fragily glass pieces, scattered in the void.

"I know everything! I saw everything."

"Did ya?" All of a sudden, the blonde drifted her hazelish-brown irises, pigmented with the most blanched hazelish-brown, dimly shimmering like a beehive of nocturnal, aureate stars in the darkened, nocturnal sky.

"Yes! You're right! They're mean and they don't deserve even to play with you for that they treat you like nothing."

Silence arched between the both infants for a split second as they found themselves looking up at one another's faces pensively. In the interval, Timothy nibbled on the silky skin of his lower lip without dissipating the eye contact.

"Why you're so sad and isolated? I just want to know. I won't judge you."

"M-My father left me and my mom on our own. It was weeks ago." Meantime, the young girl ducked her head coyly as Timothy listened attentively her, paying attention to each word with great eagerness, stiffing his facial features.

"I'm so sorry to hear all this."

"Don't be sorry! He was a prick for not loving me and mom for the past few years. He didn't truly love me and he found his luck." A sharp exhale flushed her ribs cage, whilst the younger kindergartener closed the proximity's gap with a handful of more inches. "Why yar so interested to talk to me?"

"You're much different than them. You're more mature than them. You aren't like them." Crystal, bittersweet twin dew of moistness submerged her frail eyelids as twin tears verged to roll on her cheeks like a photogenic, nirvanic catalact. The Bostonian was beyond touched by his heartwarming words, straightforwardly aiming at her as cupid arrows. Nobody else from her peers in the facility was so sweet and kind to her with exception of the new child, who had already 2 homelands for a few years. Tearful, coyly soft smile curled upon her lips. He threw his arms around her shoulders, pulling her in a tight, kindhearted hug as she rested her head on his shoulder, melting in the scooped hug. "Everything will be fine. What's your name?"

"J-Judy!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Judy! I'm Timothy. You can call me on shorter Tim."

"It's nice to meet ya, Tim! I can tell yar new."

"Yes, I'm! So far I've changed only once one kindergarten and it wasn't a long time ago."

"Oh, why?" The juvenile blonde enquired in low, honeyed voice by dropping unintentionally the partly torn crispy leaf. "Was it because of bullies?"

"Not exactly!" He stammered reluctantly. "My former kindergarten teacher was so rude and saditstic. My parents even knew that and that's why I'm here." An abrupt exhale unbended his lungs as if the knitted ropes loosened swiftly in no time.

"How about the kids? Were they nice?" Judy had abundance of questions, whirling in her whirlpool of thoughts and hexing her neck by poking her tongue tip to pose them to her new and only friend.

"At least, they're fine! They weren't that rude like them." He glanced with grimaced face at the swarm of playing kindergarteners, biting his lip.

"Oh! I see!" She gasped instinctively, idly until he released her from the scooped embrace by getting from the wooden, old bench to scurry up to the rich flowerbed that adorned the kindergarten's monumental yard to snatch a single small sanguine rose. "No, no, Tim! That's not necessary at all." Wry, hoarse chuckle bleated from her lips when he gripped the already snatched rose by tucking it behind her ear after tucking a fistful stray honey curls.

"You deserve it. You're prettier like that, Judy!" Beaming, friendly smile blossomed on his parchment, childlike complexion as Jude returned to him back with sheer benevolence, whereas her cocoa brown orbs glowed as a club's sign with its neon, vibrant gleaming letters above the entrance. "Radiantly smiling and being happy! The sad faces and frowns aren't the type of natural make-up that must be on your beautiful face." Suddenly the older girl's plump, well-defined cheeks tinted ruddily as sweltering heat crawled underneath the facial skin.

"Why thank ya! Yar so friendly."

"Every girl deserves a flower, Judy!"

**Author's Note: I really enjoyed writing this one-shot, although I'm dying of cuteness overload due to the AU idea of writing them as little children and Timothy being Jude's only childhood friend, whom she's ever had. **

**PS: Prepare for a new short Nunsignor book these days along with the new chapter of Wings of Light! **


	19. Doppelgänger I JELSA

Author's Note: I haven't written so much about Elsa and Jude except in one unfinished story and Unholy Atonement, nevertheless, I am gleeful to write about this duo, because it deserves more appreciation and recognition in the fandom. I hope you like and enjoy this one-shot.

Everything in Briarcliff was well-known for the prominent home of criminally insane, who have lost light and path to God. Trapped in its criminal void and darkness. Their deeds are deemed immoral for the recent decade and it's crucial reason they're committed against their will. Somehow the authorities and the contemporary morals just fated certain lunatics to not see the light of the day ever again. Rotting all alone behind the upsettingly dull, cement walls of the infamous madhouse and awaiting whether eagerly or not to spend their final moments of their lives, consequently being either cremated or mutilated as abominable beasts, lurking the woods. No family, relatives or even friends to lament over their deaths or abrupt disappearance. It was unholy territory or rather, the unholiness finding its new home. So as it's a godless place, there was scarcely any ghost roving the dull walls of the nuthouse. Except the ghost of the former freak show owner, whose quests in her afterlife with her spirit yet inhabiting the crudely cold, giant world nonetheless. Seeking revenge from the former Nazi war criminal, nowadays working as a doctor of science in the asylum, Arthur Arden. And her second quest was to find her own doppelganger, in fact, she knew via her parents that she used to have an older sister, but her early death before Elsa's birth was far from a warm welcome. A rolling stone memory that transformed in its agonizing, despondent scar, scarring her train of thoughts. What Elsa yearned more than anything was somehow to find out how her doppelganger or deceased sister looked like and is there any chance her parents exaggerating, opting to conceal the truth she's looking as an answer.

The German emigrant's translucent spectral levitating and passing through doors and walls were her special abilities she possessed as immortal spectral. No single soul whether wretched or on the contrary, jaded has acknowledged her mystic presence. No notoriously squeaky sound sourced her roaming spirit. Furthermore, the former actress was far from vociferous even when her quest desiderated her to be far from outstandingly rowdy whilst sneaking in the old asylum, first and foremost.

What else was part of her quest? Oh, the poor Pepper! One of her remarkable children which were part of the freaks' family when they owned once the freak show until it went through a handful of more owners. Falsely accused by her sister Rita and her husband for drowning her baby, thereafter being committed below the belt in the mental institution, where she didn't belong. Last but not least, Pepper didn't have any penintence and she owed nothing to anyone else.

The middle-aged woman's spectral figure levitated and paced nonchalantly in Briarcliff's corridors, looking for the head nun of the mental institution's office. Once the blonde found the head nun's office by going through her door, she was met with an empty office.

Elsa chewed on her lower plumpish lip at the sight of no living surrounding to be in charge of the office. Perhaps Jude was somewhere in the nuthouse by escorting Frank, dragging one of the most mutinous inmates in the entire façade up to the solitary confinement, inspecting the common room or on the contrary, in the bakery. It wasn't Elsa's business to put her nose where exactly is the administrator of the old asylum. The desperate, shrilling bewails of certain lunatics floated in the long, profound hallway. What the former freak show owner could recognize in their desperate bewails was their insanity emanating from the medicaments they're doped daily, the lack of proper hygiene and exposure to healthy sunlight even their stay for longer in an asylum where they belonged either the least or the most weighed on the scales their morals and deeds altogether. She could already put herself in their shoes, picturing the severe pain and melancholy of being isolated from the realistic world and dwelling in the insurmountable, stodgy realm of the lunatics and offenders, who were fated to not behold the light of the day ever again. Being isolated from the family, relatives or even friends if she'd ever had, whilst playing the main role of a patient in a facility or on the contrary, if she had nobody by her side from the inner circle due to personal reasons, the scarring notion of awaiting the day, the hour, the minute even the second of her death and nobody grieving over her death as whether her corpse being cremated in the crematorium or being stored in the morgue.

Chubby tears in the pit of her stomach dripped, immersing her stomach with sorrow in the melancholic area she's recently tracking her quest, amalgamating with the inmates' anguished, unspeakable bewails. Even when the tears weren't mirrored on outside, otherwise, they reflexed the genuine, compassionate nature of the former actress.

Anyway the former singer decided to inspect far from prying the austere, unwelcoming office of the sister of the church that run the mental institution for criminally insane. As a ghost, she knew everything even when her soul hasn't found utterly peace until her quests are accomplished at last. The hardwood desk that was embellished with pair of eyeglasses, sorted neatly files of the committed patients which engaged the mysterious doppelganger. The antique, midnight black phone along with the desk lamp and the empty, unused ashtray.  
And the lacquered grandiose armoire that sorted variety of canes by their sizes especially thickness.

All of a sudden, monotonous clicking of chunks, echoing in the abysmal hallway caught off guard Elsa. The feminine footsteps neared the austere office until the administrator of the institution entered in her own office by setting a foot, whereas in the meanwhile, the former singer hid behind the ajar opened door of the en-suite bedroom that linked the office.

As soon as the Bostonian was alone with her own blizzard of thoughts and prejudices, meantime, a bizarre feeling of being watched prickled electrifying layer of goosebumps overally her epidermis. Little did she know who else might be in her office even in her en-suite bedroom. The former promiscuous nightclub singer doubted the Monsignor, Mary Eunice, her employee Frank and anyone else from the madhouse's staff will have any kind of business right away. They had their own engagements at the moment, of course.

The ajar opened linked room with the office's secret guest was oblivious for Jude, herself.

The German emigrant in the corner of her hazelish-brown pool, mottled with the most vibrant and promising hazelish pigment, surveyed in a scrutiny the motion of the other blonde snatching the dark wool wimple that coiffed her hair, leaving a fistful of long unruly aureate strands framing her round, full profile. Once the wimple uncoiffed the Pandora's Box, the luxurious lion mane of glossy old Hollywood gilt tresses piled up on the rigid shapeless fabric of her habit shoulders by discarded the wimple on the top of her bureau. Overwhelmness widened the former actress, sucking her teeth, reluctant to bit her lip and produce a mellow voice, in order to get herself in trouble. Mesmerized by the former licentious jazz nightclub singer's natural beauty and the charm she possessed.

Anyway the suddenness of narrowing her caramel brown orbs, Jude noted a spectral supervising her through the tiny gap of the ajar opened en-suite bedroom door, sending shivers down her spine. How does it come spectrals or other supernatural creatures than demons and the mindless mutiliated patients transformed into zombies, yearning for human flesh and dumped in the woods to inhabit any corner of the old asylum? Her naturally rosy-coloured lips parted in a slight sly smirk as if she just caught the disobedient child stealing from his parents' heirlooms to sell them for sweets, candies and toys. It was too late. Elsa was just caught by the holy woman even when her chubby, well-defined cheeks ignited unhealthily sheepish vermilion, tattooing its facial skin from the pale as ghost into vermilion.

"Show up yarself whatever ya are!" The middle-aged woman's firm Boston accent accentuated on her velvety, promising utterance, heavy sigh flushed her chest. "I promise you, you won't be hurt!" Her chunks tiptoed up to the ajar opened door, linking with her office.

In the interval, the other lady opened timidly the door until the nun stopped in a halt. The other blond offered her a benevolently innocent smile, smeared across her peach pink lips.

"Ms. Mars, aren't ya trying to spy on me for anything?" The surprising politeness in her firm accent contrasted her enquiry even when the German emigrant's heart sunk at the thought of spying with malicious intentions her secret doppelganger.

"N-No, sister! I've important tasks to do over there." The smile that Elsa wore, didn't ebb out from her porcelain, translucently spectral complexion, in fact, she tried to stay positive and optimistic. "So that to find peace finally with my own soul."

"What kind of business...have you in Briarcliff?" Stutter as she was overwhelmed to contact somebody, whose afterlife depended on finding peace by fulfilling its quests, peeled her tongue.

"First and foremost, the sweet Pepper if she's somewhere in this madhouse!" Nod in a solemn agreement was affirmed by the former sleazy nightclub singer, biting her lower lip as she listened attentively the secret guest of the nuthouse. Sympathetic smile trickled across her rosy-coloured, plumpish lips at the thought of the sole friend patient she'd ever had. "Second, I know so far that a suspicious doctor is working in his laboratory, who is responsible for the disappearance of certain patients." All of a sudden, the inkling of the former Nazi war criminal was responsible for wiping off the sympathetic smile from the woman of the cloth's milky as vanilla face. "Third, all I have searched for in my whole life was my sister as I'm certain my parents lied to me when I was younger that I used to have a sister under the name Jutta but she passed away before I was actually born." The third quest of her afterlife journey bemused the Bostonian, who became an object of survey. Elsa's honey brown pools surveyed in a prudent perusal her facial features by starting from her long mop of aureate sleek treeses downward to her chin. Why Jude genuinely alooked like as if it's her older sister, whom her parents hasn't never mentioned any further fact about her except her early death before Elsa's birth? Elsa didn't want to pry excessively, in fact, she's just a phantom, lurking and seeking her own peace.

"I can help you with the first two ones but Pepper has told me a lot about ya." Suddenly a jubilantly memorable smile blossomed, replacing the grotesque frown at the memory how Pepper used to tell the blonde a lot about the former freak show owner, in spite of the overindulgent contempt she felt by acknowledging the German emigrant's former occupation before owning one of the out of this world's shows especially by organizing it with her adopted freaks that were neglected by the general population and perfoming every night. "Ya used to be so many years together."

"Yes, that's so true, sister! She just turned eighteen, when I adopted her to be part of my only and one of a kind family with the freaks." The optimistically radiant smile wore a thousand of vibrant patterns, across the ghost's peach pink lips, playing uneasily with her gloved fingers fidgetily how Pepper is getting along with both of them even when the freak didn't realize they're somehow doppelgangers and galore of things linked them, subsequently making them sharing so much in common as Elsa is with two homelands, whereas Jude was with only one or it might be two just like her arcane younger sibling. The member of the clergy has never heard from her deceased mother or being insinuated to have another sibling whether a brother or a sister, factly, her mother wanted this family secret to abide indefinably impalpable with items, memories, feelings or emotions.

"I know her story that her sister accussed her of drowning her baby. She told me everything." At the moment, the other middle-aged lady cut her off curtly, attempting to not show any signs of coarseness in her interruption. "W-What's that look on yar face, Ms. Mars?"

"Just call me Elsa, sister!" The hoarseness in her firm German accent's giggle didn't fade when Judy noted something dubious in the other lady's stare. "Why you looked undeniably familiar to me? I mean, by judging your hazel eyes, blond hair and that fair skin tone."

"W-What do you actually mean?" Meanwhile, bashful, hemming stammer floated from her rosy-coloured, soft as satin lips, quirking elegantly her thin, dark eyebrow.

"Look at you! These eyes, hair and porcelain skin tone seem to be the things that I can recognize about," Pause cut her off at the indiscertation of the meek, childlike footsteps that brattled against the cemented flooring of the corridor, whereas her nostrils flared at the thought of another stranger entering in the austere office of the holy woman while having their important conversation. "My doppelganger! Even these cheekbones." The footsteps were inescapably deteched even by Jude once she heard them. All feminine. Namely meek and childlike. It was Mary Eunice.

"I think it's better for ya to hide. Ya can see Pepper after Sister Mary Eunice leaves." A mischievously friendly wink that shut her eyelid temporarily in a tiny slit couldn't repress the former actress's husky chuckle, thereafter shutting the en-suite bedroom's door, while Jude whirled around her bureau, expecting the imminent visitor. A couple of docile, feather door taps snapped the middle-aged woman out of her whirlpool of thoughts and temporal loneliness with the German emigrant's subtle presence. "Come in!"

"Sister, good news!" In the meantime, the young sister of the church stepped inside her mentor's office, her Mary Janes clicking against the cemented flooring, tingling Elsa and Jude's ears in a choir, whilst seizing her lips in a pensive, girlish purse. The slam of shutting the office door didn't bother the former promiscuous nightclub singer at all. "The turmoil in the common room is prevented."

"Fine! Another mud wrestling in the common room between the patients again?"

"N-Not exactly! But Craig smashed on many pieces of the vinyl disk on the recording player and Frank sent him in the solitary!"

"Seriously, Craig?" The ablaze flare surged lava oxygen through the Bostonian's nostrils, while listening attentively her own protégé, pushing away a fistful headstrong luxuriously gold-plated curls out of her clammy face after spending almost the entire morning in canning a horde of patients for their disobedience. "How does it come he to be responsible for breaking the Dominique's phonograph record, ya know?" Afterwards the back of her petite, smooth as baby skin hand swept off the generous layer of clamminess all over her forehead, glistening its natural epidermis's'transpiration.

"A few witnesses boldly confirmed he's responsible for breaking it once I entered to check what's going on in the common room after no longer hearing Dominique." A sharp exhape surged from the top of her brittle, nubile lungs, bowing lightly her head to gain stamina to resume her utterance even when the words weren't fished by her tongue. "What I just saw after entering in the common room was Craig was maniacally laughing on the floor and alongside his body the shattered on millions of pieces phonograph record. At first, I was confused and I could doubt Craig is going to be capable of more vicious even rebellious stuff to break the rules in this asylum!" The orphan's slim, pristinely long as piano keys' fingers rubbed gingerly, delicately the delicate epidermis of her temple by opting to evade migraine or abrupt headache after witnessing the gruesome scenery, taking its place in the common room.

"All I can remember is as a schizophrenic that caused another big scene in the common room a few days ago by rejecting to take his medicament and arguing with the orderlies!"

"W-What about his punishment?"

"I canned him bloodily with ten whips, although the Monsignor somehow tried to convince me when he entered in the common room, he couldn't sit on his own bum and ten canning were a bit too much for such disobedience."

"And what about your response, sister?"

"Well," In the interval, the older lady cleared her throat gruffily, fixing her collar, consequently tossing on her head the wimple with her long, adroit fingers by coiffing almost every inch of her angelic halo ringlet of richly gilded long strands in the dark wool veil, veiling them deftly except a couple of unruly wild honey curls, framing her round coiffed profile. "I told him since Craig is committed in Briarcliff for schizophrenia and disturbing with his odd behavior a couple of his former co-workers, but also deceased girlfriend who committed suicide after being driven to insanity of it," Ire overflowed its lava in her veins, pumping vigorously by feeling the rapid rabid heat beneath her epidermis. "Of course, the Monsignor was more liberal than me and he didn't think he deserved this harsh punishment, ya know!"

"He might be right." The benevolence in her blameless smile, parting in a curl the younger nun's pale naturally roseate lips contrasted the frown of her mentor. Mary Eunice took a deep breath, seconds before her tongue conjugate the sequel of her exclaimation. "Sometimes the inordinate whips are far from a rational punishment for the repenting soul. Let's not forget Craig has healthy problems due to his body structure, subsequently his muscles are vulnerable to,"

"Fair enough! Anyway thank ya for informing me on the right minute about the prevented turmoil in the common room, Mary Eunice! Ya may be missed." What it sickened Jude to bones was blandly squabbling even having disagreements with Mary Eunice, due to their ginormous age gap and sharing completely different point of views, diverging with their evolution and the gradual knowledge gain with the years, numbering the personal experience.

In the meanwhile, the juvenile blonde fled meekly her mentor's office without blandly retaliating their dispute and testing Jude's patience as well.


	20. Doppelgänger II JELSA

Author's Note: That's the sequel of the one-shot Doppelgänger with Elsa and Jude as eventually there's going to be a surprise for the end of the third part of the Doppelgänger. Anyway I hope you like and enjoy it! :))

-_ A Quarter an Hour Later _-

A quarter an hour after Jude and Mary Eunice's brief debate in the austere, unwelcoming office, thereafter Jude and Elsa paced slowly and steadily up to the common room in the profound hallway of the mental institution. As they were getting to know one another, the both ladies realized that they shared so much in common, due to the fact, they both used to be singers, fishing for abundance of reasons. In Jude's case as a veteran nightclub singer in the old, retro bars of the small city of Massachusetts, fishing for love, warmness and muting the sore, doubtlessly agonizing pain of her past and the heartbreaks, compensating it with boozing countlessly insane quantity of the sinful, sweet alcohol, the temporaily numbing one-night stands with men, craving to get rid off in no time from her attires and savor every inch of her youthful, nubile flesh, sniffling as savage beasts the opulently alluring fragrance of her lion mane of glossy old Hollywood gilt curls, the starkness of her gracious, petite frame's neck and cleavage. Using her youthful, slender body for their own personal, hedonistic needs, arousing their crotches. Whereas in Elsa's case, the career of a singer didn't grant her the fame she hankered for at all. Moreover, raising both with single parents and possessing heinous reputations. They're both hopelessly romantic.

Even when it has been less than an hour since the doppelgangers met for very first time, Jude could feel a genuinely deep spiritual connection with the German emigrant. Little did she know how innoxious and could somehow grant somehow modicum of her precious trust, in spite of her trust issues and the wary nature that engulfed once strangers commenced to encircle her. They became quickly fond of one another and they shared one more thing in common which was unarguably true. The doctor of science. Of course, he's the essential antagonist in their story, whom they must eliminate at any cost.

"How does it come Dr. Arden to be Hans Grupper, Elsa?" The hoarseness in her inquiry was far from oblivious. Hostile frown parted the woman of the cloth's naturally roseate, cherub lips in a pair of the grotesque. Her honey brown orbs stung widened in disbelief what the other middle-aged lady was talking about the suspicious senior doctor, that was performing abundance of barbaric experiments on the wretched souls. Her flimsy heart sunk abysmally in the pit of her stomach. The monotonous click of their chunks and stilettos fathomed frequently the inexorable clicks against the cemented flooring. Disturbing the silence and amalgamating with the shrilling symphony of the inmates' bewails.

"I'm deadly serious, Jude!" The gruffiness in the cleared throat, promptly was reluctant to distract with something further the Bostonian. "You can hardly believe what this man has done but you don't know what atrocities he's done before escaping like a coward from Germany. From where I exactly come from." In the meanwhile, the Bostonian chewed on her lower lip with her front ivory, still firm teeth. Scraping the delicate, vulnerable skin of her lip. "First and foremost, his true name isn't Arthur Arden how he claims to be, mein Liebchin!" The emphasis in the nickname that addressed to Jude, a mild powder of blush touched her chubby, well-defined cheeks. It's the first time an ally especially a female one giving her an adorable nickname. Tingling angelic anthems into her petite, sensitive ears.

"I understood this part but what are exactly the atrocities he did to you," The former licentious jazz nightclub singer was all ears for the truth instead for the retrospection. "Before altering himself like his name, address and ya know?"

"You can even see it for yourself, my darling!" They stopped in a halt in the middle of the hall as the monotonous click of their chunks and stilettos' choir subdued in the background. At the moment, the former actress bended by lifting her glamorous oyster-white trouser's leg, consequently poking with a few fingers on the prosthesis. The pious member of the church's caramel brown pools, dappled with shadowed pigments of the once warmest caramel blanched in no time, whimpering, picturing the severe pain of losing your legs and then being replaced with prosthesis to be able to walk yet.

"W-Who did the prosthesis?" Stutter floated from the Bostonian, whistling a deep breath whilst her jaw chattered, muffling it with her both elvish, milky as vanilla hands.

"It was an old friend of mine, Massimo. He confronted the Nazi asshole for amputating my legs while filming a snuff film. The other men in the film were confronted by Massimo too." Solid lump gulped in Elsa's throat abstained her from sobbing quietly at the thought of her once love interest that aided her so much during the toughest times by tossing the trouser's leg back, flaring across her ankle as bonfire, igniting the rings with viscuous fire. "He's a really good friend of mine. He saved my life when I suffered the most and we had a dream to escape in America back in the 30s but before fleeing for America, he stayed so that to confront every foe but Grupper caught him and tortured him until one of the SS generals rescued him."

"That sounds so heartbreaking to hear that there was somebody who deeply cared and loved ya, Elsa! And I'm so cheesed off how this war criminal has tortured both of ya and ya had to flee all alone here instead with him."

"For sure he deeply cared about me and loved me!"

"So what happened to him?" A sharp exhale inhaled the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer, continuing their walking journey up to the common room. The childlike inquisitiveness about Elsa's grim past aroused Jude's enthusiasm even resuscitated her compassionate, light side.

"The last time when we saw one another was back in 1960. He told me he's diagnosed with lung cancer and it remained him so little time. Even more, Massimo admitted he isn't a smoker." Frown twisted upon her peach pink lips, almost finding herself to snivel in the madhouse's corridor hysterically. "It was the same year when I died but some time later around Halloween."

"I'm so sorry to hear all this, Elsa! Ya truly deserve so much better, ya know." All of a sudden, they entered in the common room after pushing the double door. Horde of babbling to themselves, banging bluntly restless in the walls inmates encompassed them as the both women's eyes landed on each corner of the common room. The once French song that played on the vinyl recorder was replaced with the frequent babbling and hysterical wails of the desperate souls. Dim light filtered the expansive room, illuminating every corner and angle with natural sunlight that seldom dispersed through the old, dusted windows. "It's not yar fault for anything. And all I can do is to pray for yar and Massimo's souls."

"Do you see somewhere Pepper, Jude?" The both women surveyed in a scrutiny, inspecting with a simple glance each patient's physical looks and attires until their hazelish-brown eyes squinted at the much shorter due to its vicious illness patient. "I see her. I found my baby." Her stilettos violently stomped, clicking against the cemented flooring, strolling up to the freak, while Judy accompanied the ghost without violating her personal space with scarcely sharing any appropriate proximity. "Pepper!" The German emigrant cried out loud the freak's name with eloquence and agitation, factly, they haven't seen one another for a long time. She spread her arms to scoop her in a tight, warm hug.

"Boss, you're back!" Pepper curled her arms around her former boss's upper back, burying her parchment complexion in the crook of her arm, melting in the hug she longed to melt in especially in the former freak show owner's, whose arms were the most secure and doting, in her humble opinion. "I missed you so much! Where have you been so long?" Then Elsa heaved Pepper's weightless body as if she held and cradled a baby, muffling a warm breath that pinched her cheeks.

"In heaven, my darling!" The huskiness in her chuckle, pausing her sarcastic exclaimation bloomed a beamingly content smile upon the patient's face. "I really missed you so much, Pepper!" Whilst the inmate and Elsa were conversating one another, the nun eyed them as if she was on cloud nine for reuniting them somehow, folding her arms across her torso. Some of the lunatics' shadowed by desperation and melancholy eyes, studied the foreign visitor in the common room after hearing her German accent. Unlike the other spectrals, Elsa couldn't disappear and then reappear like them. She was stuck for eternity on the crudely cold world until she found ultimately peace with herself by accomplishing her three crucial quests. Finding her true doppelganger or rather, twin. Subseqeuntly reuniting with Pepper and then Arthur Arden's nemesis, paying bloodily excessive for his own deeds and crimes in his both two homelands.

The afterlife was an infallible punishment and challenge for the wretched souls to fulfill utterly their quests whether numerous or a handful of ones so that to no longer prowling restlessly and seeking vengeance of their rivals, who're responsible for their nemesis. Galore of candidates to step beside the heaven or hell's grandiose gates with their accomplished tasks on their once homeland where they belonged as mortals was a rare case.

\- _An Hour Later or So_ -

After Jude reunited Elsa with Pepper as they both spent their time in the common room, the woman of the cloth went back in her office since her absence meant trouble and in case, if whether an anxious visitor whose relative or friend's peculiar demeanor disturbs them or anybody from the staff.

A couple of door taps interrupted her of her thoughts and perusing the recent patient's file, biting her lower roseate, plump lip at the thought of her boss, the Monsignor. Or it might be the juvenile sister of the church, Mary Eunice or her loyal, amidst the fewest genuine friends of her, the security guard Frank.

At the moment, her petite, frail hand snatched the classy pair of eyeglasses from her porcelain, still elderly young-looking complexion in a swift motion by leaving them aloof on the hardwood bureau, getting from her seat, awaring its visitor about being all ears:  
"Come in!"

"Sister Jude," In the meanwhile, the British compatriot entered in her austere office by shutting the door behind him. "We shall talk!" The seriousness in his British, velvety accent honed her hearing instantly, while her front ivory, yet firm teeth scraped reticently her upper lip at his emphasis to have a grave, professional conversation. "Pepper is ecstatic, while talking to a ghost, whose accent isn't English, nor American when I paid a visit to the common room."

"I assure ya, Monsignor, the ghost is Elsa Mars. She used to own a freak show in Florida and Pepper used to be with her a long time ago!" Meantime, the Bostonian stood for her arcane doppelganger, clearing her throat gruffily, seconds before starting her rational, defensive monologue. "And Elsa's birth homeland used to be Germany and,"

"Is she used to be a Nazi?" Suddenly pair of big, widened in speechlessness round honey brown pools were transfixed on the pair of chocolate brown, incredulity linking them.

"No, no, of course not, Timothy!" The older lady opted to assure alleviatingly her boss that Elsa was nothing like the Nazi war criminals. "This woman had suffered a lot in her birthland. Her legs were amptutated by nobody else than Dr. Arden, whose real name is actually Hans Grupper. He's also responsible for torturing Elsa's deceased friend, Massimo, who had his own revenge on the men that are responsible for her torture while filming the snuff movie. Massimo didn't actually die by Arden's hands." In the interim, the younger man rolled dramatically his cocoa brown irises, while listening attentively his rara avis. "And if ya haven't noticed the mysterious disappearance of patients, it's actually Dr. Arden's fault. And moreover, this man can't be trusted any longer, in fact, he's a former Nazi war criminal and he's a sadist."

"How it's all this possible?"

"You should keep yar wits about the patients how some of them are in the common room today or in their wards or in the solitary confidement, but tomorrow," The quirk of Timothy's thick, dark eyebrow taunted her hiss while emphasizing every word of her utterance, baring her teeth. "But tomorrow they aren't seen anywhere anymore. I'm completely sure Dr. Arden knows better what's going on with them. And in the night of the movie even when Lana, Grace and Kit disappeared then got back drenched like dogs, they told me what they've seen in the woods, a few patients who're mutilated like mindless zombies chased them until they escaped their claws." Afterwards the middle-aged lady ambled up to the British aristocrat, holding his stare with a smugly wry smirk, creased across her face so that he to easen his belief in what kind of a monster was chargeable for patients' oblivious disappearance for the aspiring holy man. "And I almost forgot the Mexican! Her corpse was found in the woods, but I'm not sure he's responsible for her death." Chills, sedating flimsily and frailly his bones and muscles provoked his skeptic apprehension, birthing by brewing and cooking inside him. In order to not disappoint his rare bird, he followed her on their way out of the office to inspect warily Dr. Arden's office and in case, if they bump into him to confront him and call the police.

\- _Later that Day_ -

The moon streaked the Boston's sunsetting sky with a brilliantly esthetic interweave of somber pigments and orange and pink, airbrushing the prospect. The already stark trees with its once glamorous monumental crowns, swarmed with crispy leaves have already whistled by richly blanketing in a carpet the ground.

After Jude and Timothy researched Dr. Arden's office for any tangible piece of evidence that portrayed him as a vicious Nazi war criminal even a barbarous sadist, they found one of the patients, strapped on the patient bed in his labotary and most of all, they were horrified by releasing the patient before he found his own death or stoicly experiencing the dynamic roller coaster of physical and mental torture. At first, the man of the cloth didn't want to believe the most professional doctor of science was capable of something inhumane and associating him with a manipulative fraud and sadist, nevertheless, witnessing a couple of stored former patients' organs and flesh for his next level's experiments and the lunatic, strapped on his bed for being the imminent prey were far from tolerable.

Miraculously, the doctor of science was arrested earlier shortly after his laboratory was surveyed by the members of the clergy and calling the authorities.

Last but not least, the former promiscuous nightclub singer's ecclesiastical duties were insurmountable for her lately. She was more than determined to stay in a motel until the day after by packing her luggage from tonight and tomorrow to emigrate in a small apartment in one of the small towns of New York, living on her own for the rest of her days.

While the former holy woman was folding her sheerly white cotton nightgown, consequently caching it in her suitcase, meanwhile, a handful of door raps kept her wits about her recent visitor, standing beside the office door.

"Sister," It was Frank, the former police officer who set a foot in her unwelcoming, almost ex-office by tiptoeing up to her en-suite bedroom, catching her preparing her baggage to flee for a motel. "What are ya up to now?"

Heavy sigh flushed her chest, suckling on her lower rosy-coloured lip as her uncoiffed hair was tied in a low, casual bun with a fistful of headstrong gilded curls, framing her round, full profile. A midnight black dress with boat neckline and cotton longsleeves with its hem flaring across her round, well-defined knees hugged her svelte figure with black classy stilettos, shoeing her petite, frail feet.

"I think these ecclesiastical duties for me are coming a bit too much for me, Frank! I'm determined to move in New York from tomorrow and working something much different than serving the miserable diocese."

"I'm not amused why ya have chosen something better, despite," Woefulness highlighted his voice, approaching the blonde without violating her personal space, biting sheepishly his upper lip, whereas she packed the rest of her remarkable paraphernalia in the suitcase. "Despite I'll genuinely miss ya, sister! It's amazing journey to be together for these years but I'll fully respect yar decision, ya know!" All of a sudden, she turned to face him, holding his gaze with a ruefully friendly smile, thrieving upon her rosy-coloured, cherub lips.

"The lifestyle of celibacy and being a nun is nothing else than a burden to be a normal human being, if ya get me! And that's why I want a fresh start in New York as I've resigned from the church."

"So it's not a sister anymore, is it?" His pale-pinkish lips curled in the enquiry, raising an arch of his thick, grizzly eyebrow.

"It's just Jude or Judy. Judy is my real name."

"Judy, Judy!" He repeated with jab of warmness, accentuating his northern accent. Glowing smile indicated alongside his parchment, slightly wrinkled complexion. "I like it better." The raspiness in their snickers' choir filtered the en-suite bedroom's background, hushing the resilient silence in the middle of the night. "And where are ya about to spend the rest of the night?"

"In a motel."

"D-Do ya have enough cash for only one night?"

"I'll be good." Then his solely free mammoth, veiny hand yanked from his slacks' pocket a handful of dollars, reckoning them approximately a hundred and fifty dollars, throughout handing them in a solemn offer to the former devotional sister of the church with a smile, patterning a thousand of benevolent textures. "No, no, Frank! Take them back. I'll be okay without extra cash." Remorses pumped into her veins, cooling the temperature of her blood if she once accepts irrationally the money. Discomfort contoured her stunning facial features.

"Just take them, Judy! Ya won't regret if ya need something in case and a smile to sparkle once ya find out you aren't out of money eventually."

Instead of bland bickers, the blonde accepted kindly the handed money, thus spreading her arms for a kindhearted, tight embrace for farewell with her favorite ex-coworker. In the interval, the security guard snaked his strong, muscly arms around her shoulders, responding to her embrace. They molted altogether in the affable, warm hug.

"Ya have been always the kindest and amidst the fewest loyal friends of mine!" Woeful whisper floated from her lips without breaking the hug.

\- _A Few Minutes Later_ -

The middle of the night also aroused Timothy's worries for not seeing his right hand for hours after investigating the former Nazi war criminal's laboratory and calling the police on him, subsequently being on a trial within months only. He was sitting glassily in his own office until the monotonous click of stilettos snapped him out of his train of thoughts, recognizing Jude's feminine, gracious footsteps. It aroused his interest to check what was going on, breaking the ice in the hushing abysmal hallways of the façade that was consumed by the nocturnal silence.

As soon as he got from his seat by strolling up to his office door, opening it in a single click, he glanced in the both directions of the corridor until he noticed the silhouette of the secretive woman. She wasn't clad in the attires of chaste or rather, the holy attires of the church with the wimple and rigidly shapeless, dark wool habit, concealing every inch of her petite-frame. The woman's silhouette was unrecognizable for the British compatriot, making him to scratch his head in unnerved manner with his small fingernails.

The truth eventually was the older lady was fleeing the mental institution's grand building within a minute without turning her back, thinking twice to return ever again. Somehow Elsa's ghost wasn't seen and she oddly vanished in the thin air during her flee without Jude's knowledge which peculiarly concerned her. The last time when the former woman of the cloth has seen the former actress was actually a couple of hours ago in the common room with Pepper.

The aspiring man of the cloth has never seen his rara avis out of her habit but something urged him to walk away from his office and to chase the mysterious lady until she ultimately vanishes at last.

He opted to tiptoe up to her without drawing further attention, transfixing its prying eyes on him as shadows and demons in the corners of the darkness drinking his plucked up courage.

When he escorted her subtly up to the stairs, she didn't turn to check who was after her. Once she imposed the grand massive stairway after passing the front double doors of the old asylum, throughout she approached her cab by unlocking it with her car keys after delving them in her purse. Timothy gave up to approaching her as he found his heart being cracked on trillions of flimsily glassy pieces, bleeding from his stabbed chest. His heart sunk in the depths of the misty, somber ocean of the heartbreaks. Little did he know the rational motives of the older lady to leave Briarcliff and most of all, he didn't even acknowledge the circumstance that she's no longer a nun. Crystalline chubby tears trickled rivulet on his lower eyelids at the heartaching scenery of the former sleazy nightclub singer getting in her vehicle by starting the incessant's buzzing car engine until her hands were on the steering wheel, taking an ultimate control of the vehicle. The irony was that she didn't glimpse and noticed somebody was observing the scenery of Jude driving up to the last destination of tonight. The motel.


	21. Doppelgänger III JELSA

Author's Note: That's going to be the final part of this short one-shot about Jude and Elsa being in one universe together even when Elsa's a ghost instead of a mortal like Jude and Timothy. Anyway if you have any suggestions for one-shots and with which ship, you can drop them in comments anytime so that to fulfil your expectancies even if I don't publish them right on time or just after the one-shot where you have dropped your ideas! Anyway I hope you like and enjoy the finale of this one-shot. :))

\- _The Next Morning_ -

\- _16th of November, 1964_ -

The morning after approached slower than a sluggishly crawling snail, barely making any progress.

The night before when Timothy eyed the scenery of his right hand clad in different attires as a mere civilian while controlling her vehicle and driving far away from the old asylum's territory without thinking twice to return ever again instantly killed his appetite and primary need to collect some sleep. He'd never expect the former sister of the church has any dubious intentions and thoughts over Timothy. He hadn't got the chance to acknowledge even her genuinely rational motives of resigning from the church and fleeing the mental institution.

What the British compatriot did was spending the entire night without blinking his eyelids for a single second to collect a glimpse of physical and mental regeneration. The insomnia and the heartache were inevitably draining his youthful energy and train of thoughts as a void's vortex until they're hollows and numb. Even when the aspiring Monsignor opted to shut his eyes for awhile, it was almost a failure to resume. Tinting images of Jude from the last night while wearing casual garments and pulling the cab far away from Briarcliff still haunted him, viciously shadowing the corners of his vision with the worst. Heartbreak and unrequited love. He simply didn't fathom why she did this.

A grotesque flat line indicated across his lips. Neither a warm welcoming, any hints of slight smile, nor an aggressively baleful scowl. The mid-November's dim sun filtered his austere office with saturating sun as its vibrant sunlight delicately stroke his chestnut hair, pale as ghost skin and the furnitures. The patients were already released from their cells and the common room was opened since the wee hours of the morning. They've already taken their morning medicines and had another low-quality breakfast.

As soon as his colossal, creamy as baby skin hand managed to land on the retro, charcoal black phone, dialing per a number the phone number of the Mother Superior, in order to collect some tangible information about Jude and the real motives of fleeing the church for which he hasn't even acknowledged. A heavy sigh flushed disquietly his chest. He still missed the early mornings when he either visited her office or she's actually the visitor in his office, discussing professionally certain topics or their holy missions where they're as team players. Mother Claudia was actually amidst the last hopes that could leak some piece of information where his rare bird is and what made her.

When he clung the earpiece to his ear, awaiting the phone call to be answered right away, his front ivory teeth scraped the delicate skin of his lower baby pinkish lips, blinking a couple of times his eyelids' muscles unnerved. Something urged him the senior sister of the church answered his call right away at last.

"H-Hello, Mother Superior!" On the other line of the phone call, the senior holy woman cleared her throat, whilst the British aristocrat's stutter floated from his lips, reluctant to fluent his utterance due to the abruptness.

"Oh Monsignor, I did expect a phone call from you now!" The undertones in her stern, elderly voice indited that she knew everything about the former licentious nightclub singer deliriously and she might be far from promising to her ex-protégé to leak something to the holy priest. "Is it about Sister Jude?"

"Y-Yes, it's!" Galore of pressure encumbered his constricted chest, almost unable to take a deep breath and relax himself for a split second. Everything was chaoctic without the love of his life. Even from a distance, the swarm of butterflies flapped contently, nonchalantly their wings and fluttering in his stomach as if he's actually head over heels in love with the first ever woman he's insanely fallen in love. "I saw her the last night dressed up in casual clothes and driving far away from Briarcliff with her cab. Last but not least, her baggage was ready and that's eventually the last time I saw her." His cocoa brown pools were casted downward at his shuffled feet under the hardwood bureau, flushing a dim puff from his nose. "Do you know anything about it?"

"I've promised to her I should keep the rest of it as a secret between me and her, unfortunately! It's like a betrayal, Monsignor! I really can't tell you where's she now."

"In first place, did she resign from the church?"

"She did yesterday. Just a few hours after Dr. Arden's arrest." All of a sudden, his round, big eyes widened in panic, finding his heart missing a rhythmical beat that hammered in his ribscage.

"I didn't mean to be way too prying, Mother Superior, but I'm truly concerned what made Jude to resign from the church and give me hints where exactly her current location is."

"I'm afraid to tell you, Monsignor, that," Pause, murderously reluctant limped her throat while gulping the budding lump in her throat, thereafter sipping her glass of lukewarm, fresh water within a couple of seconds during the pause. "That she's somewhere in New York and it's her personal and only decision to no longer be a nun."

"I-I see. Anyway I'd like to thank you for leaking this information even if she already knows that you haven't fully kept your promise."

"She isn't supposed to know that I told you that. Have a nice day!"

"Have a nice d-" In the mid-sentence, the phone cut off as his sentence abided unfinished while verging to finish the phone conversation they conversated, slamming the earpiece back to the phone.

\- _A Couple of Months Later_ -

\- _16th of April, 1965 _-

It has been 5 months since it was the last time when Timothy was in Boston by fleeing the small city of Massachusetts, subsequently moving in New York and resigning from the church in no time. The once ambitious man of the cloth didn't have any intentions of continuing his hallowed journey up to the exalted titles in the diocese Cardinal and afterwards being the Pope in Rome.

When he moved somewhere in the small neighbourhood of New York by renting a small apartment of his own with a few rooms only, he found a job as a Latin teacher in the nearest school and adopting an orphan which was nine-year-old young boy from the nigh orphanage, because he loved children more than anything by becoming fond of them, thanks to Jude who inspired him even when he saw her a couple of months ago as a last time, besides the British compatriot was incredibly wealthy.

Timothy and his foster son Flint shared the apartment together and have their own bedrooms. When the Latin teacher had classes at school, Flint was at school and when Timothy finished his Latin classes for the day, consequently he picked up his adoptive son by utterly allowing him to play on the playground after school with a handful of amiable peers of his even though he didn't have many friends at all and some of the children mocked him cluelessly blunt, having maliciously infantile intentions of letting him down.

In the weekends, Flint and his foster father went on hikes in the park and woods, besides allowing him to go out and play with his friends in the neighbourhood, although his paternal instincts that resuscitated at the thought of malicious kidnaps and violence that were seldom common amidst the naïve, young children. Last but not least, the young boy studied with immense passion a few subjects and his father aided him from time to time with his homework when he struggled the most.

Anyway the day of the trial approached and it was the sole day-off school for the former holy man, due to the fact, he must pay a visit to the court and having lastly the chance of reuniting with Jude again. His adoptive son was at school yet.

When the former man of the cloth was waiting patiently a half an hour until the trial outside the grandiose façade with his hired lawyer, all of a sudden, the monotonous of prominent clicks, clinking the ground immediately drew his attention at the memorably recognizable lady. It was Judy.

At the moment, his chocolate brown irises resuscitated the brightness of the warmest chocolate, mottling them or it was just the spring sunlight. A slight smile indicated across his berry-coloured, soft as satin lips at the sight of his right hand.

Lesen, convenient oyster-white shirt hugged her slim torso gracefully with a handful of undone stubborn buttons, exposing partly her collarbones and delicate neck. Midnight black pencil skirt with black stockings and midnight black chunks along with an ideally matching navy blue long coat. Her halo ringlet of silky old Hollywood gilt curls were piled up graciously on her shoulders even if they were slightly trimmed, losing length with a few spans. Lilac and gardenia alluring fragrance oozed of her, wafting across his sensitive nostrils. She looked gorgeous. Still gorgeous into his eyes and much younger.

His heart raced, throbbing vehemently into his ribscage, almost losing its isochronical frequency. The heart pulses pulsated into his ears, muting the eloquently elating and serene birdsongs, twittering in the backgrounds. Uneasiness creased across his facial features at the sight of the blonde and the trial that awaited them so that to grant additional piece of evidence if they've collected through the past months about the former Nazi war criminal and his unspeakeable crimes.

"J-Jude?" He addressed mellowly in velvety voice her name with his British accent, biting his lower lip, whereas she approached him. "Hi!" Far from reluctant to resist her ethereal grace and the nonplussing reunion.

"Hi Timothy!" A slight, nonetheless, friendly smile bloomed upon her porcelain, still youthful complexion. Perhaps she's so happy to see him again or that's a mirage only, blurring his childlike ecstasy of their phenomenal reunion months later. "It's nice to see ya," Pause limped the words on her tongue, exhaling sharply to let them slip from her tongue densely as a running waterfall. "Again!" Emphasis of the last word managed the younger man to quirk a dark, thick eyebrow.

"It's good to be back. How's the life?" A generous blush touched her well-defined, chubby cheeks.

"It's good. I've a fresh start that I wished for a long time and a job that I really like, not gonna lie. What about yar life, Timothy?"

"Mine is well." In spite of the heartache he endured for almost a half a year, he opted to not revive the compassionate side of his rare bird by drawing blandly childish attention. "I'm a Latin teacher in the nearest school and I've adopted a young boy, whose name is Flint."

"That's amazing! I bet you've a wonderful life together. Is he a good boy?" Mild sarcasm swam in her enquiry, curling her lip.

"Of course, Flint is a good boy! Why do you even ask?" Although of not seeing one another, their funny sides were unlocked and didn't forbide them to be part of their interaction instead of keeping it dry and cold as if they're peculiar strangers.

"I'm just asking."  
"What do you work as actually?"

"Urm, an assistant in the hospital!" In the meanwhile, during their conversation, what Jude commenced to question was her crush's facial expression that softened, painting somber nuances at the prospect of the distress, dirty as a ceaseless stain on a cloth or a bedsheet. "For heaven sake, what's that facial expression on your face, Timothy?" Wry chuckle clicked the roof of her mouth.

"I'm just nervous and overwhelmed all over this."

"Over what?"

"Not only the trial makes me so nervous, but also for seeing you again."

"Aww, the poor you!" Her lips parted in the scoff, throwing her lean, alabaster arms around his upper back, whereas his muscly, strong arms snaked around her waist. Her parchment, fresh face was buried in the crook of his arm, while his chin rested on the top of her head as a perching bird. "I assure ya everything is going to be fine. The trial will pass and this war criminal and whoever he's supposed to be will get what he truly deserves." The both former members of the clergy molted in the kindhearted, warm hug they shared mutually even when they haven't had accomplished almost any kind of a physical contact except holding each other's hands and the delicate touch of their facial skin.

Once they broke off the embrace, they took their time to admire one another's enchanting facial features, memorizing them yet as far as they were like before.

All of a sudden, the younger man managed to take the older woman's petite, cold warm into his much larger, amusingly warm, squeezing it tightly and lovingly. Her honey brown eyes followed the motion of his hand grabbing hers, whilst the thumb managed to knead the back of hers alleviatingly. In the interval, her ivory, still firm for her age front teeth chewed on her lower lip by relishing each moment and each second she spent with her crush. Their hearts raced equally.

"A-Anything wrong?" The Bostonian's inquiry taunted the British aristocrat's arch of his eyebrow once again.

"No, no! It's just," He averted his stare for a split second, attempting to sort his mind and recollect the words for a rational reply. "I missed you so much!"

\- _A Couple of Hours Later or So_ -

After the trial, the both former members of the clergy separated as Jude went to work in the hospital as an assistant, whereas Timothy was at home by cleaning and dusting just before going back to school to collect Flint and spent some time outdoors before going back at home.

When the both males were on their way to home after opening the grand apartment's front door as they'd to tower the stairs of a few floors up to their, suddenly something grabbed the former priest's attention promptly while he's about to tower the stairway to the third floor. Jude was back from work by unlocking the door of her flat as it was oblivious she's being observed by Flint and Timothy.

"I've an idea!" The foster father of the infant clamped with a hand his mouth, opting to muffle any sound that notoriously squeaks from his lips and diminishing the chances of startling the blonde. "Follow me!" Meantime, they escalated the stairs without an ado.

The truth eventually was that Timothy told every petty detail he's collected as a remarkable piece of memory with the former nun and what he knew about her, consequently the little boy assimilated it, figuring out she's a wonderful person with big and golden heart, besides she's undeniably intelligent, cunning, beautiful and responsible. He wished she was his foster mother, throughout somehow dating his adoptive father and being a family altogether, in spite of the circumstances.

As soon as they stepped beside the front door of Jude's flat, a couple of blamelessly light door raps were produced against the lacquered cherry wood.

"Jude?" No response. No footsteps echoed anywhere before the door to answer its guests. "Rare bird, do you mind if we talk again?"

Heavy sigh surged from the top of his brittle lungs, while his foster son nudged him, emboldening slyly to enter in the apartment. What it surprised them was that she hasn't locked it, thereafter they stepped inside, tiptoeing without catching any further, reckless attention at all. Silver-tongued, herdonic humming whistled in the kitchen as Flint and Timothy had a big surprise for Jude.

Meanwhile, the amalgamation of chopping vegetables on the wooden chopping desk, grasping the kitchen knife and the hum boated in the kitchen background.

"Jude?" Once he emphasized her name in honeyed voice, propping on the doorframe along with the schooler, suddenly the middle-aged woman dropped unintentionally the kitchen knife in the sink, startling at their sudden presences.

"Oh! You really scared the hell out of me. " Then she turned to the both males with a benevolently soft smile, creased across her face when she noticed Timothy wasn't alone, momentarily reconigising the infant who accompanied him. It was Flint.

"I'm so sorry but I wanted to surprise you." Meantime, the older lady ushered them to set a foot in the kitchen, taking their seats on the kitchen table. "Feel like home, gentlemen!" Whilst Timothy and Flint were sitting on the kitchen table, the former pious sister of the church gathered two empty, unused yet glasses for drinks from the cabinet, untying her egg-white, plain apron that armored her torso, evading spoiling her garments. "Would ya like to drink something?"

"Just a glass of water for me!" Timothy ordered politely.

"How about ya too, little gentleman?"

"A glass of juice, please, ma'am!" The formal politeness of Flint dumbfounded the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer, melting her heart whilst pouring the in the both separated glasses water from the turned sink's faucet and natural juice in the same time.

"Just call me Judy or Jude, young man!" When she finished pouring the beverages, thus she served them on the dining table as they nodded gratefully their heads, shaking a hand with Flint. "It's a pleasure meeting you Flint! I'm Judy, your adoptive father's old friend."

"It's really nice to meet you, Judy! I'm just Flint."

In the next a half an hour, the both former members of the clergy conversated one another along with the former orphan about personal topics and miraculously, Judy became quickly doted on the little boy maternally platonic. Laughters thrieved life in the kitchen as Jude's responsibility to cook a dinner was oblivious for her. As soon as the conversation escalated, suddenly the both adults excused themselves by going in the older woman's bedroom to have a personal conversation between them, promising they will be back in a jiffy.

"Timothy, I'd like to know how did ya know I live there, first and foremost!" Mild lividness brewed and cooked inside her as the former holy man held the door gentlemanly for her, whereas she seated on the edge of her double bed.

"I didn't know that you lived in the same flat as mine until I occasionally spotted you unlocking the door of yours after I got Flint back from school and we spent some time together outdoors."

"And why yar after me like a hungry beast? Why?" The blonde bared her teeth balefully, ducking her head as her face was buried in the nest of her delicate palms. Crystalline, frail tears drenched the palms of her hands, sniveling as the bedroom's door was slammed as Timothy sat alongside her, trying to console her.

"The night you left Briarcliff and I saw you how you were turning the car engine after your luggage was in the car, it made me to ask myself a lot of questions."

"What questions?"

"What made you exactly to flee Briarcliff and resign from the church?" His mammoth, veiny hand managed to lower to her shoulder, rubbing it featherly, comfortingly as a peck on the top of her head writhed her, resembling a seizure. "W-Why you're distancing yourself from me? What's wrong with me?"

"The question is what's wrong with me." Meanwhile, she uncupped her face, her ruddy-rimmed, puffy eyes were transfixed on him shamefacedly. Desperate frown twisted across her naturally rosy-coloured lips. "I wanted a fresh start. I didn't want to hurt you at all. I'm just scared once you know who's actually yar rare bird, ya want to forget about me and dump me as a human waste."

"J-Jude! I'd never be capable of leaving you even forgetting about you." He cut her off curtly. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about your past or who you used to be a long time ago."

"I'm just for a really goddamn good fuck onl-"

"Jude, don't talk like that!" He grasped the hug, consolingly whispering. "I just want to be with you. I don't need anything else except my small family which is you and Flint."

"_Pretty woman, walkin' down the street__! __Pretty woman the kind I like to meet__!_" Suddenly, one of the street musicians in the neighbourhood played on the guitar, chanting in a resonance the song as the both devotional members of the church flinched at the sudden chant.

"Do you truly mean all this?"

"I always speak my mind." He unwrapped one of his strong, muscular arms by planting an affectionate, light kiss on her temple. "Just for you, my rare bird!"

Whilst the both adults haven't exited for a quarter an hour the bedroom, Flint sipped his glass of natural juice until he felt an unfamiliar touch, squeezing his shoulder. He startled at first, turning to face the ghost of Elsa that offered him a sympathetically maternal smile, spread across her lips.

"W-Who are you?" The little boy's naïve posed question made the German emigrant's smile to grow drastically as a spring flower in the wee days of the spring. Offering love and comfort.

"I'm Elsa Mars. I'm your father's girlfriend doppelganger."

"Are they dating?"

"They're definitely dating, sweetie!" At the moment, the former freak show owner guided the young boy after he got from the dining table, guiding him up to the bedroom, her elvish gloved hand met the doorknob until in a subtly quiet clicked the door opened at the sight of cuddling on the double bed couple. "Look for yourself!" The suddenness of a content smile flexed his jaw line, unable to wipe off the contagious content smile.

The romantic sight of the both adults cuddling and muffling warm breaths mutually were breathlessly a dream come true for Flint as his foster father yearned more than anything to behold him with nobody else than his rara avis. Elsa was actually right. Jude and Timothy were officially a couple and he could scarcely imagine somebody else replacing Jude as his own an adoptive mother to nurture him and the former man of the cloth, besides loving them to bones. It was far from possible picturing a scenario with his father being a single or on the contrary, dating another woman than the lady of his dreams. His rare bird.


	22. Punishment NUNSIGNOR

**Author's Note: It has been awhile since I've written something different than a short book or focusing on a long book like Wings of Light. Anyway here's pretty smutty and dirty one-shot for all people who're suckers for Nunsignor, besides priest kink. If you don't feel utterly comfortable and priest kink isn't your thing, consequently, just don't read this one-shot! I'm not recommending it for everyone, in case, it's not my responsibility how do you feel afterwards except the piece of work and the mental stamina. Last but not least, I hope you like and enjoy it! **

Like every patient with nothing left after herself, Judy was destined to spend the rest of her days, committed against her will behind the lifeless, dull walls of the mental hospital for criminally insane. Nothing left as a piece of memory or remarkable paraphernalia to use or retrieve. They could be already donated to the church. From her make-up supplies which were a few and rakish up to her Holy Bible with leather, stable cover. Furthermore, no family member or somebody else from her inner circle could mourn over her death.

Only God was by her side in the toughest times even during the tribulations as a patient with the disheveled appearance, losing its luster and genuine golden color of her lion mane of unkempt silver-gilded tresses, piling up on her shoulders and framing her round, feebly full profile with unrealistically palish skin tone after not exposing her skin to natural sunlight or any kind of a light at least. God supervised her, judged her actions and decisions by weighing them on scales, determining which side leant more.

For her own surprise while innocently sitting on the tattered sofa in the common room, the Monsignor during his double check in the common room, in case, if certain inmates were missing in the corner of his stark, studious eye and delivering the austere message to his closest person in the whole madhouse, who was nothing than a madwoman he wanted to see her in his office within an hour without mentioning the reason and explaining himself what were his intentions of the call.

The Bostonian could wonder yet what his intentions to require her presence within an hour at his office are and what exactly his motives are. Misbehaviour. Ruckus, pulsating in the common room or somewhere else. Not taking her regular medicine which muddled her mind and losing her true sanity. He had something to tell her exceedingly and she'd be the sole person, knowing his little secret or his recently accomplished goal. Judy could still picturing the scenarios, playing in her jaded mind and their dynamic play and his stern, nonchalantly velvety voice tingling her ears with the most mellow, eloquent tune as a morning birdsong, whilst spelled each syllable and word with eloquence. Eloquence and smoothness in his utterance, ideally illustrating his academic nature.

As soon as the blonde rapped on the love of her life's office door, awaiting agitatedly his response until a velvety with British lilt voice accented on the simple exclaimation, instantly accepting the invited guest at his office:

"Yes? Come in!"

Once the doorknob was steadily held by a petite, pallid hand with sufficient firmness when the feminine, docile footsteps echoed against the concerted flooring after stepping inside her former boss's office, lifting his studious, glassy gawk from the newspaper by rolling it as a scroll with his pristinely strong fingers, snatching his pair of copper Helvetica bold eyeglasses from his parchment with light-heavy wrinkles complexion.

"Monsignor, ya wanted to see me!" The precision in her arrival wasn't amusing at all for the man of the cloth, fixing his collar and the last background noise that clang was the door slam, sending crude waves to the man of the cloth's ears, tingling notorious personally knew perfectly Jude in person as an ex-coworker of his and most of all, an employee. The blonde was the most diligent co-worker of his, known for her brilliant intelligence, creativity, authority, benevolent nature and doubtless responsibility, poured in her hard work. Moreover, it's been awhile since she's stepped in her former boss's office.

"Just take a seat, Jude!" The manipulation of his ushering mammoth, alabaster hand indicating the free seat on the chair against his hardwood desk was sufficiently welcoming, polite, demonstrating his professionalism and gentlemanly nature, whilst the blonde was approaching the desk, her front ivory, still firm for her age teeth nibbled on her lower chapped, roseate lip, reluctant to suppress his imminent, unpredictable intentions and his honeyed, calm voice, chanting galore of angelic anthems.

Once her bony with mildly perfectly normal for her feminine anatomy as a map stretch marks rear dropped on the wooden, cherry wood chair and crossing her legs femininely, her fidgety fingers were idly perched on her lap.

"I'd like to know what makes ya to call me over yar office an hour ago, Father!" Her Boston lilt accented her rhetorical inquiry, fixating her hazelish-brown orbs, glimmering childlike inquisitiveness on the British compatriot's youthfully unblemished, vibrant chocolate brown orbs. Vaguely friendly smile crawled on the British compatriot's pale-pinkish, soft as satin lips. The pale, mid-winter daylight light filtered the austere office, bathing the both adults' exposed fleshes with natural light, fertilizing them. Further, the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer didn't want to violate with the love of her life's goodwill and posing excessive in its quantity questions per a few seconds as if her distraction played a crucial role in her ignorance and missing the essential even secondary information's assimilation and recension.

"Well, do you remember when we're business partners just before your removal from your position and clerical possessions, Jude?" The velvety undertones, highlighting the older woman's first name sent shivers and paroxysm down her frail skeleton. Mirth at the recollected prominent memories during her nunnery and her partnership with the British aristocrat brightened her unnaturally pallid, porcelain complexion and saturating flames flickered her alight caramel brown pools with the warmest, the most eye-catching caramel brown.

"I-I do, Timothy!" The mirth didn't left her face at all. Cherry, ingenous blush touched her chubby, well-carved by God's hands with feminine flesh and blood cheeks with fragility. In the meanwhile, the younger man scanned with his pair of cocoa brown embers his rare bird from head to toes especially transifixing his utter focus on her round profile especially the outstanding blush that distracted him with the merriment.

The suddenness of the silence froze the both victims as the priest surveyed in a scrutiny his recent visitor's body language and manners. His stare evacuated her self-confidence magically even when she opted to sort her mind and formulate her impending thoughts in an outspoken constructed utterance.

The blush and idiotic smiles which every time were bravely worn on the former pious holy woman's porcelain, alabaster complexion as armor were read fuzzily. Whether she was pleased with his presence platonically or on the contrary, cagging inside her arcanely intensifying feelings and impure, explicit thoughts of the devotional member of the clergy, fogging her ocean of thoughts.

"What were you exactly thinking of me?" All of a sudden, Timothy lifted up from his seat by ambling up to the blonde. His gravely posed question with deep, hoarse voice tingled angelic hymns in Jude's sensitive, petite ears especially when their proximity was less than a couple of inches, his rear perching on the top of the hardwood desk. The mirth fell off from the former holy woman's face, suckling on her lower lip, reluctant to resist the urge to conceal the hints of nervousness and his domineering humor. "Not just as a business partner." His coffee brown embers attempted to read the older lady's smile, eyes and blush with an ease.

"That yar friendly, open-minded, hardworking and well-educated!" As the older lady listed the prominent personality traits, readily noting and articulating, goofy smile blossomed across her rosy-coloured, chapped lips until a smug grin, loomed on Timothy's still fresh, young-looking face. Wicked, inward giggle escaped his lips, solely distinctive for him at Jude's failure to deliver the answer on the question which he already knew by heart its true response. "But I can't tell ya right away my secrets."

"Don't worry about this one, Jude!" When she felt the aspiring Monsignor's colossal, smooth hand clawing her dainty shoulder as the former nun's epidermis was mapped in electrifying goosebumps, plaguing her train of thoughts after longing for a long time to feel the man of the cloth's lethally smooth, gentle touch on any body part didn't mop off her smile from her lips. "I know right away what you're exactly thinking of and you just can't get away once the deepest secrets hop off your mouth." Suddenly his clawed hand manipulated the former sleazy nightclub singer's knees perching down on the cold, cemented flooring of the office, her petite frame, sitting on her own knees with scarcely an inch proximity dividing them. Her pallid face was already against his hard crotch even remarkably bulging through his loosen trousers, tight enough to contour the hard manhood and his genuine masculinity. Meanwhile, his long pristine fingers reached for her halo ringlet of unkempt silver-gilt curls, playing with them and admiring its endless softness. "Stay on your knees, Jude! That's just the beginning." His honeyed whisper chanted eloquent, elating birdsong from the wee hours in the morning, paroxysm and warmness swamping the pit of her stomach until it plummeted downward, plaguing her lower abdomen and the untouched areas by a reprenstative of the opposite sex. The sharpness of Timothy's British lilt punctured the last sentence as a command whilst the older woman's eyes widened in shock and bemusement.

Shock, stinging her eyelids widely opened for witnessing for first time or the fewest times when her former boss could show his true colors as a leader and most of all, demonstrating his domineering side. Bemusement how his command could grant consequences and an embarrassing, arcane silence which was durable for a minute solely, in fact, what the British compatriot's recent intentions were didn't show any hints of keeping his vow unbroken for long and seeking God's guidance to clean the mess of his unblemished deeds and already broken vows. Her heart sunk in oblivion.

Furthermore, the Bostonian has never allowed any reprenstative of the opposite sex to manipulate her mentally and physically even bundle her violently in another inescapable, pitch-black chaos all over again just like in her past life as a promiscuous jazz nightclub singer except the British compatriot was the one of a kind man whose touches and delicate words as played flute stings with its cradling fingers were yearned for a long time. Anyway that was just Timothy Howard. The man of her dreams, in spite of the betrayal after building a stable friendship for years, cusping between business and true friendship, between platonicism and romance.

"Timothy, yar breaking a vow! You're a priest and I'm just a-" All of a sudden, the younger man cut her off curtly whilst one of his hands stilled on her long honey mop of curls, whilst his solely free hand's fingers slithered down to his slacks' zip to unzip them and unbuckle its stubborn belt until it no longer secured his abdomen-clad charcoal black trousers. The sound of unzipping and unbuckled belt spoke the language of trouble.

"Sh, shh, Jude! I want you to confess what exactly burdens you." Scornful giggle clicked the roof of her mouth when his fingers slithered from her long golden hair downward to her chin, tilting her head to meet his piercing, brutally honest chocolate brown embers, igniting the fieriest gaze. "Or rather what's on your mind, because don't make me to speak it out loud what I've read in your pretending to be the goody two shoes, guiltless child's eyes that look at me." What the former religious sister of the church didn't want the love of her life was to read her mind momentarily and leak every fragment of her impure thoughts. Judy felt so vulnerable, small and weak under Timothy's gaze. The further background sounds, playing in the foreground of the old, dilapidating madhouse were oblivious for them.

"If ya don't tell me what are yar intentions, ya don't have any clue what I'm capable of." After his trousers dropped its legs down to his ankles, exposing nothing else than his plain boxers, hugging his bulge and his top along with the clerical collar, a deep breath flushed her chest shortly before her retaliation. "You don't even understand what are you doing now except menacing your career and everything you worked so hard to be up to here, besides humiliating me."

"Who are you talking to right now?" Suddenly the British aristocrat snapped at Jude, resonance vibrating in his throat, quirking his eyebrow whilst Jude's instincts after he thrusted his member, donned in his underwear to contact her chapped, naturally roseate lips. They grazed the cotton boxers' fabric, feeling the erected crotch urging her to remove his boxers' waistband from his abdomen until it springs up freely and having the ultimate freedom to tease it. How long it has been when she craved this to happen, although being aware of the consequences? Her immense experience with men, who brought her trouble in general were the bricks of the built experience with the sexual pleasures. She knew what she was exactly doing. "Who is it you think you see? Do you know what trouble it will bring us? Even if I ignored the consequences and dedicated to the desires and needs, you won't believe me until we experience and feel it." In the interval, the blonde's slim, long as piano keys fingers lazily reached for the boxers' waistband by snatching them slowly and steadily from his long legs. "I know what do you exactly want Jude and I just want to feel-"

"To feel once the desires even as a priest and when God can only judge ya?" Meantime, Timothy managed a humble, agreeable nod.

"Exactly! I'm still wondering why the priests and nuns are just forbidden from these unholy acts though by judging the Greek mythology, therefore the Gods and Goddesses weren't flawless and didn't keep their vows at all. Briefly, they're like everybody of us. Making mistakes, breaking their vows and they allowed themselves to delve in the unholy ocean of lust and the desires." Even when unsacred words were formulating the utterance, generous searing powder of violently with sanguine blush powdered the holy man's cheeks, sweltering heat crawled underneath his facial skin, eyeing the patient's slow, covetable motion nonetheless. The notion of lust, desire and sensuality's spells, casted on the curse of took vows and the celestial sensation of feeling and experiencing through the dynamic roller coaster of wishes and impulses. "For example, as a nun, I bet you have thought of me every night and doing this to yourself!" The unscared words were a third wheel, limping in the beginning of his tongue until his slacks pooled his ankles. At the moment, Jude's fingers sultrily mounted slowly and delicately from his calves up to his just sprung up, freshly erected member. "Holy Jesus!" The Monsignor choked, swallowing hard until his cocoa brown orbs stung widened in speechlessness. Her naturally rosy-coloured, plumpish lips were wrapped around the member's head, whilst her fingers teased and worked technically on the stiffness, her tongue whirling and twirling the precum, when her mouth swallowed its length. Little did the Bostonian know how big it could be the Monsignor's untouched, vulnerable by its anatomy's sensitivity manhood.

"Mmmm! I didn't know yar going to be that huge, Monsignor!" She mumbled, whereas her only free hand that was teasing its stiffness shifted its attention to the testicles, cupping them and massaging them slowly and steadily. In the meanwhile, the British aristocrat grabbed with balled fists the long gilt mop of unruly tresses, aiding her to tease him. Hedonistic, quiet moans and groans lingering on his tongue, unable to control himself anymore. He thrust his hips vigorously, increasing its pace of his member. The foreign feeling sonly became his second nature and he easened its muster, despite as a member of the clergy, his purity and virginity along with his goals were more important to raise in the highest tiers in the diocese.

"Jude!" Breathy mewl dripped from his mouth, cocking back his head, incapable of resisting the patient Succubus's abilities, judging her experience. Syllables lurched in the back of his throat and transfixing his ogle on the former sister of the church teasing and pleasuring him. "I'm not ready yet."

"For what aren't ya ready, Timothy? To come in my mouth?" Afterwards the pop sound of her lips unwrapping around his member by releasing it and her fingers admiring its length, peppering with tender, feather kisses all over it and licking slowly, gently with her tongue tip until her wet tongue peaked to his cock head, salivating it and supervising his facial expressions. The louder moans and groans echoed in the austere office.

"So as you think I'm not ready yet, is that part of your fantasies?"

"Mhm!"

Within a couple of thrusts and bucking hips, suddenly his mouth-watering semen was planted in the corners of Judy's mouth, licking greedily her lips after releasing its cock from her mouth and emitting husky chuckle. The salty cum that laced her strawberry-coloured, wet tongue, flickered vehemently her caramel brown pools with the most vibrant caramel and elation dancing rhythmically across her lips and purr of satisfaction escaped the middle-aged woman's lips, savoring its salty juices of the cum and blatantly swallowing them.

They were like the curious children of God and its very first creations, made of flesh and blood. Adam and Eve. The punishment playing the major role of the serpent, tempting the both first creations to savor from the forbidden fruit.

"I knew it how impure were your thoughts are and I can clearly see it, thanks to your blushes and smiles!" Meanwhile, Timothy gingerly heaved Jude from the cemented flooring as her back was turned to its owner, bending against the hardwood bureau, nibbling on her lower plump lip pensively, attentively as she was all ears. "One of your secrets finally leaked but you shall promise me this stays between us as a little secret, right?"

"Mhm!" In the interim, the low humming in approval parted the older woman's lips until she felt her still drop-dead gorgeous, leanly long legs were already bared after the ambitious Monsignor lifted its rigidly shapeless patient gown's hem up to her rear, exposing her dainty, cherub buttocks with its cotton oyster-white panties securing her already drenched folds. Moreover Timothy muffled a content groan at the sight of the stark legs and buttocks, swallowing hard and opting to recollect his mind. "But I've always had impure thoughts of you." Despite the blunt confession, the holy priest lifted up his mammoth, veiny hand, seconds before the smack across the buttocks, trying his best the slap to not leave welts and bruises all over her rear, biting his tongue surreptiously. "Jesus Christ!" That was actually part of my fantasies too." Solely audible for her the whisper curled upon her lips, flinching at the first slap, contacting her bum.

"That's very," After the second smack across her bum, the man of the cloth's strawberry-coloured tongue conjugated a reprimand though the Bostonian scarcely felt any sensation of pain, surging her frail skeleton after being already putting herself in the patients' shoes for her crude punishments with the canes. "That's very filthy and that's why you deserve to be punished for your sins, Jude!" Within a couple of slaps, he traced gingerly, featherly the sanguine traces of his tads fingers all over her small buttocks, admiring its peachy shape and softness, carving the former woman of the cloth's ass cheeks. "Wasn't that part of your fantasies?"

"Anything where we're sinning in the name of our desires." Judy muffled whimper, whilst her ass cheeks ached for his delicate, gentleman touch and the coarse, masochistic smacks and hedonistic indulgence towards the pain she coveted to reflect her call to arms of her kinky nature. "And in the name of the Lord." Suddenly Jude felt her panties being yanked down to her knees, weak at Timothy's pristine, childlike curious fondle, prickling her whole figure with electrized goosebumps, bristling and mirroring the true nature of the sensation which the former licentious jazz nightclub singer was succumbed by nobody else than the other men. What it struck her first was the different patterns of authorative nature, dividing Timothy and her one-night stand lovers in her past life before nunnery. The one-night stand lovers, craving to taste her flesh and juices after swiftly, savagely discarding in a swift, careless motion her attires unlike the clergyman. "Oh God! Right there." Breathy, guttural moan almost died on her tongue tip when she felt the priest's fingers rubbing on circles the mauve swollen bud of nerves clumsily sluggish, whereas one of her elvish, creamy hands cupped her firm, round breast, palming its erected nipple, pebbled by the crudely common chilly climate, dwelling as an uninvited guest behind the dull walls of Briarcliff. "Quicker!" Persistent reprimand, emphasized in a sharp tone commanded the inexperienced holy man to increase rapidly the pace of his fingers, kneading on circles the erected clit though noting his lack of confidence after flapping its feather, grandiose divinely golden wings of self-esteem from his toned chest. In the meantime, his still hard, veiny and stiff member poked her bare, silky inner thigh. Sending immediate sensations of infernal hunger for his cock to fill her core's barrens and contracting its core walls with his hardness.

At the moment, the Bostonian increased the pace of her rutting hips, maneuvering to ride Timothy's fingers that lingered on her erected clit until his fingers slipped at her entrance, commencing with slow thrusts until they escalated to ferociously swifter.

"Oh sweet Jesus! I'm sure ya would love to taste my juices, Father! Isn't that true at all?" Wicked, diabolic whisper wasn't suppressed by the former member of the church, biting her lower lip, failing to muffle the shrilling feminine, steamy moans and groans. Satisfied gasp surged from the top of Timothy's lungs. "Yar once holy whore's now in yar office for the punishment I've always desired." Her tongue crafted the strong language which was a blasphemy with fever, contaminating the breathy syllables. "Yar doing not just a good job. A splendid job with the repenting soul." Complacent, dark grin opened her mouth, unable to catch her breath until he slipped out his fingers from her core and licking the salty, sticky juices complacently, baptizing his fingertips and heaving a heavy sigh just before positioning his hard crotch at her entrance. "Father, I've a question!"

"I'm listening." After the blatant, impulsive popping sound of wrapping his pale-pinkish, damp lips around his fingertips and devouring slowly but surely, he darted his coffee brown irises to her without averting promptly, he mumbled calmly.

"What do ya think about all this? Don't ya just like it?"

"I-I do like it." The stutter stifled a girlishly coy, amused giggle from the older woman, raising an arch of her dark, thin eyebrow.

"Yar lying to me. By judging yar face and by the way you sounded, I'm certain you love it." Her tongue clicked in the scoff, his delicate, veiny hands spread her buttocks, giving him a better access to position his manhood. "Don't ever forget the lie is also a sin!" Sassy emphasis taunted the British compatriot's boyish, sheepish snigger. "But I have never seen yar other side like before."

"I have showed it."

"Yeah but like a few times only! And yar currently showing it."

"The rules must be followed and the repenting souls should be got in the right track before being out of the light and God's sight!"

"That's what I'm talking about, Monsignor!" All of a sudden, the British compatriot leaned against his rare bird, his warm, minty breath fanning lightly her earlobe and her side profile before starting with the painful, slow thrusts. "Urm, I have seen ya like a couple of times being sternly domineering as if ya sincerely stick to the discipline and strictness." The corner of her hazelish-brown eye, she held his lewd stare.

"That's true! And it's high time for repentance." In the interval, he commenced to thrust inside her with the possibly slowest pace, whispering past her ear sensually, electroshocking her satin flesh with his words in low voice.

"Holy shit! Yar still hard. Isn't that again for me, Father?" What it mesmerized was Timothy didn't withdraw his parchment, youthful complexion from her earlobe until his solely free hand reached for her swan neck, curling his long, strong fingers around the palish, sleek skin of her neck, choking her.

"You guessed correctly!" Within a couple of thrusts, subsequently the pain subdued in the void, filled with ecstatic moans and groans, sailing in the office's background and pleasure, numbing their binds and whirlpool of thoughts. "And now just spit it out, Jude!" He insisted the blonde to begin with the prayers.

"Forgive me Father for I've sinned," The grasp of the curled fingers circa her throat managed to tighten, chocking in her mid-sentence, bucking her thighs vehemently and steadily.

"And let's pray together!"

Within series of thrusts along with the symphony of moans and groans, sweeter than angelic hymns and louder than a prayer, their climaxes were approaching until he planted his seed inside her and unplugging his hard crotch from her entrance, reciting in a mumble the prayer together after she put on back her panties, guarding her rear and the rigidly shapeless patient gown's hem flared across her round, well-carved knees and getting from his desk.

The punishment was the sweetest forbidden fruit to be savored by the devotional member of the church by punishing the repentant soul for its sins, unlocking her devilishly Jekyll and Hyde side in a jiffy.

And the austere, welcoming office of Monsignor Timothy Howard was numbed by the silence, the eloquently high-pitched birdsongs, encircling the old asylum in the wee hours of the afternoon and the desperate bewails of patients whirling and twirling in a chaotic vortex all over the grand façade.


	23. Adam and Eve's Children NUNSIGNOR

**Author's Note: I know how AU is going to be this one-shot and a bit too much for some people, nevertheless, it's going to be much different, where Timothy is actually female under the name Timeena, whereas Judy is actually Judah. The names sounds quite bizarre though they're incredibly melodious. Ahahah! I hope you like and enjoy this one-shot! :))**

After the once wretched souls, seeking redemption in the hollow's depths of the purgatory and the answers they're looking for after sinning, breaking at least one of the ten commandements which weighed on scales stubbornly their deeds, sins and remorses their new home was finally established nowhere else than in heaven.

A former licentious jazz nightclub singer with rich career and experience in seduction as a bimbo in her past life of the numbing alcohol, one-night stands and reeking bars of urine, alcohol, vomit, human sweat and pungnent perfumes. A car crash, childish bones clad to the uncontrollable vehicle's horsepower after boozing insane quantity of the sinfully sweet, mouth-watering liquor, lacing the blonde's tongue in limbo. That was the genuine motive when the sinner wanted to lift off the encumbering burden from her shoulders after spending a free lifestyle of the broken woman and lust, greediness were her deadliest sins. Joining the church of St. Andrew's and no longer feeling the unholy spirits overwhelming her fragile identity. Corrupting her frail heart and vulnerable, versatile intentions and her whole one of a kind being.

The goody-two shoes, diligent and philosophically dedicated to celibacy man of the cloth with exceedingly lavish career, built the divine bricks of the tiers, rising gradually in the diocese. With nobody else than his old friend's help for the tremendously valiant, headstrong hard work, draining his humanely normal sensations of love, desires and lust. Spellbind, hexing him to be on his knees, kneeling before God, who already possessed him as body, soul and spirit. Hexing him under the potent, intensifyingly celestial spell of God and priesthood, slaving as a hallowed robot.

In spite of his sins and mistakes, involved in a homicide of two taintless souls, believing the love of his life's foes scintillating lies which were partly his responsibility for her clerical possessions ebbing off from her bare hands and unavoidable hospitalization behind the dull walls of the infamous madhouse, his soul was conveyed in a purgatory and swimming through the tribulations to repent for his crimes and weaknesses alongside his old friend.

While heaven was the new home of Judy and Timothy, God actually trapped them in an ordeal, swapping their sexes as Judy isn't just Judy anymore, throughout her body's feminine, slim curves evaporated promptly. Her breasts' mass diminished and flattening her torso. God was doing his own job. His stark, mammothly nimble hands were doing wonders. Crafting Adam and Eve's children bodies if their real sexes weren't a fact or rather, just a trance from the femininity into the masculinity. Carving Judah's torso, flattening the bosom and crudely masculine, appealing ripples contoured God's creation of Judah's toned torso. The leanly masculine muscularity of arms and legs' anatomy, focusing on the eye candy effect after breathing freshly, naturally to the exposed light or darkness. The hair was trimmed neatly to the neck, losing a couple of inches from the original feminine long gilded mop of lavish tresses, framing round, full profile. The skin tone was porcelanly sheer and vanilla. Stubble mapping Judah's moustaches, chin and sharp jaw line.

That was Judah's beginning or rather, the incarnation of blonde Adam, hybridizing Adam and Eve's traits.

What about Timeena?

God's stark, creamy as satin hands had a multiple task. After crafting Judah's anatomy with great efforts and the final results meeting its expectancies of his divine creation, his long, strong fingers smudged human flesh as plasticine. Incessantly kneading like dough. Playing, experimenting until the results no longer resuscitated doubts which were symptoms of his adrenaline and ire, pulsating into his body. Adrenaline and ire of fiasco.

Timeena was youthfully innocent lady with lion mane of glossy chestnut tresses, framing her round profile. Her porcelain, lusterly alabaster skin tone gorgeously matched with her soft, dainty facial features and her big round coffee brown embers. Her hands were dainty. Her legs were leanly long as towers and any garment artistically matched with her lower profile. From the short skirts, exposing almost the entire length of her leanly long, ageless legs up to the most archaic with the most rigid fabric slacks. Her incessantly guiltless, vague smiles indicated her girlishly sheepish charm. Rich of pure innocence. Rich of vulnerability. Rich of chastity.

The palish silver early morning light filtered the bedroom where the both former members of the clergy were cuddling and bundled in the warm, convenient duvet. Their stark, sweaty bodies were clung to one another. Nestled in one another's cozy arms. The sanctuary of comfort, security and love. The fresh morning air ventilated and boated in the sufficiently expansive room. Light, distinctive solely for the asleep couple snores chanted their own ballad.

They weren't living in a huge house at all. It wasn't like the ordinary American families with two-story properties, situated anywhere, although there were homeless even owners of properties which weren't expansive at all, flats or rather, inhabiting any hotel or motel's booked room. The former devotional members of the church have rather inhabited one-story cabin with only one bedroom, kitchen, living room, bathroom and basement which was deemed as an underground floor. Further, their yard was monumentally extensive. For galore of flowerbeds, gardenias, trees and hikes.

"Oh crap!" All of a sudden, the older man bleated a grunt, sensing his stark erected member poking faintly, kindly unknowledgeable his lover's bare, silky thigh. Within a quarter a minute his groggy eyelids fluttered open and studied the younger lady's parchment, young-looking yet with a few light-heavy wrinkles, adorning the face. Her cherub roseate lips bubbled up series of inward, peaceful snores and surging oxygen from the top of her brittle lungs. She looked gorgeous, regardless if Timeena was drifted off asleep, moody, melancholic even beatific. Her long chestnut mop of wild, disheveled sleek tresses was ruffled on the cotton, comfortable pillow. "You're so beautiful, sweetie!" His strong, dexterous fingers reached for the delicate jaw, cradling it in a featherly-light touch, admiring her ethereal, youthful beauty. "Sleep well, baby doll! I'll make a breakfast for both of us!" Judah pressed in a brief, sultrily soft kiss on Timeena's naturally rosy-coloured, plump lips, seconds before unwrapping from his stark, tall figure the duvet though pang of compunctions stabbed him viciously in the chest as a dagger until his slow and sorely paiful death agonized him, succumbed by his own bleeding wounds and scars.

Thereafter he unwrapped his both muscly, strong arms which were once curled around Timeena alongside with the duvet from his large frame by sitting on the edge of the bed, picking up the discarded attires and underwear from the floor after making love to each other the last night.

As soon as the former holy man was clad in casual garments, hugging his leanly muscular body, howsoever, his impending destination was the bathroom to brush his teeth, clean himself and then flee, heading up to the kitchen to scramble eggs and brew coffee in a pot.

Once the British compatriot came to his senses lastly, the brunette stretched her lean, alabaster arms in the air, consequently rubbing with her own frail, fashioned in balled fists hands her groggy chocolate brown pools and muffling a mere yawn with morning breath with a hand over her mouth. When Timeena got out from the king-sized bed and scanning the wall clock, hanging over the French window, thus it read approximately eight and a half o'clock in the morning.

"Oh! It's so early." She licked idly, sheepishly her chapped lips and gathering a bath towel robe after hopping up in the cozy slippers up to her initial destination. Namely the bathroom to brush her teeth, clean herself and take a lukewarm, fresh shower.

Within a quarter an hour, Timeena left the shower freshly neat and clean. No longer scum, filth and generous thick coat of perspiration hugging her frail skeleton.

Whilst the former holy woman was under the shower, the thick, everlasting shower head pouring lukewarm heavy rain, pelting down her stark, petite frame after tying her hair in a high, casual chestnut messy bun with a fistful of rebellious silky strands framing her pale as ghost, childlike complexion, what it mortified to bones the young woman was the drastic, unrealistic change of her sex. Yesterday she wasn't Timeena. It was the former aspiring Monsignor. And when the British aristocrat confronted her different anatomy or rather, feminine anatomy with her small, firmly round breasts topped with small, vulnerably sensitive mauve nipples, peebled by the cold chilly climate and electrifying goosebumps, prickled overally her epidermis alongside the kinky, wire dark pubic hair, varnishing her lower abdomen her cocoa brown pools stung widened in panic. Mewled shrilling croaks from the top of her frail lungs sent notorious tunes of waves, colliding in the tiled walls. Fortunately, the blonde hasn't heard them yet.

Little did the brunette knew how from the last night has significantly changed. Wasn't that some kind of mirage? How would her lover react?

Although the nonplus, contaminating her thoughts, throughout she opted to move on and embrace with open arms the crude circumstances which God might have punished her dearly.

The brunette stepped inside the kitchen, donned in nothing else than a large-sized, almost unworn old oyster-white T-shirt with pair of comfortable, navy blue boxers, securing her lower abdomen. The low humming of radio and the scrumptious fragrance of scrambled eggs, cinnamon and coffee filled the kitchen with life and reviving the romantic morning atmosphere even if they didn't have their own children. Notwithstanding the circumstance of the adoption alternative could not leave them without roots and heirs after their haphazard disappearance one day. Disappearance from heaven. Disappearance from the divine world of the angels, God's servants and God. Disappearance of every heavenly soul that has already being through swarm of tribulations, whether in the purgatory or in the mortal, humongous world. Meantime, the brunette inhaled inwardly the insatiable fragrance of freshly cooked breakfast and brewed coffee with cinnamon, seizing her lips in a pensive purse.

"_Just yesterday morning they let me know you were gone__! __Susanne the plans they made put an end to you__! __I walked out this morning and I wrote down this song__! __I just can't remember who to send it to__! __I've seen fire and I've seen rain__! __I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end__!_" James Taylor's song Fire and Rain was currently playing on the radio with the symphony of guitar stings' frequent clicks and chanting voice.

"Morning, rare bird!" The younger woman tiptoed up to her lover, snaking her arms around his shoulders which startled Judah at first, his jaw chattering. Soft, pristinely delicate fingers caressing the cotton scarlet T-shirt, sensing his muscly back was pressed by the peebled, erected flexible nipples which sent shivers and paroxysm down his skeleton of sweetness, pleasure, elation and warmness. Complacent, cocksure grin flashed upon Judah's parchment, palish-filtered by the natural daylight morning light face. Muffled gasp escaped his baby pinkish, cherub lips after scrambling the eggs with fresh vegetables, spatula grasped in his mammoth, veiny hand as the blood vessels spined his wrist after mechanically manipulating the scrambled eggs. "You're up earlier."

"Morning, babydoll!" At the moment, the blonde turned to his lover, pressing a hardening, steamy kiss on Timeena's rosy-coloured, plumpish lips unhesitantly. Then he shifted his attention to the pot with brewing coffee, commencing to boil vigorously as a cauldron, pooled with toxic soup. "What were ya sing, Sunshine? I didn't hear it."

"You're up earlier." The British compatriot repeated, parting her lips in a scoffing, jubilant smile, wearing thousand patterns of heavenly mirth.

"Oh yeah! I know. Just to make breakfast for both of us."The hoarseness in Judah's chuckle didn't fade away, supervising the pot of coffee by removing it from the hob at last, whereas the eggs were still roasting. In the meanwhile, he could feel his girlfriend's dainty, delicate hands slithering downward from his muscly, broad shoulders down to his slight beginnings of abs, teasing scornfully and admiring the masculinity. Pressing the red button of his husky, boyish giggle, clicking the roof of his mouth. "How does it feel?"

"Hard and soft." Cherry blush touched the young woman's well-sculptured, chubby cheeks. Mirth didn't fell from her face.

"Which one rather?"

"I'm undecided. With what I may help around there?"

"_I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend__! __But I always thought that I'd see you again__! __Won't you look down upon me, jesus__! __You've got to help me make a stand__! __You've just got to see me through another day__! __My body's aching and my time is at hand__!_"

"Could ya retrieve two mugs for the coffee from the cabinet?" The command was meekly followed by the British aristocrat, opening the cabinet, consequently retrieving two cleanly unused, plainly oyster-white mugs and setting them on the countertop emphatically. No longer the fondles were blanketing the former holy man's chest. "Thanks!" In the meanwhile, Timeena researched one of the drawers for two mere, unused plates for the scrambled eggs. "I'd do that, but thank ya once again, babydoll!" Sudden silence consumed the kitchen as the humming radio was a background noise, the sole sound that brightened the kitchen. "Cat got yar tongue, babydoll? Is anything wrong?" The blonde averted his honey brown pools from the emptied pot after pouring the caffeine liquid in the both cups by fixating them on Timeena's ducked head, throughout dumping the spatula on the countertop, grappling her chin to tilt her head, meeting the blonde's stare and drinking with his own insatiably candid, enticing caramel brown orbs the brunette's intentions of keeping herself quiet. "Your silence means something is wrong and it upsets me, ya know."

"You aren't Jude, whom I know! And I'm not Timothy, in fact, I'm a woman." Woeful smile twisted across her lips, licking them self-consciously, insecurely managing a pointless, bland nod. "And it scared me when I entered in the shower and I found out that my masculinity is gone, being replaced with femininity." In the interval, the former woman of the cloth's petite, smooth hand felt fingers playing absently, teasingly with her knuckles in attempt to reach for hers, thereafter taking it in Judah's much larger, secure hand and bringing it to his lips, peppering it with series of feather, tender kisses. "Isn't that God's punishment towards us? Doesn't he have to give us some kind of a quest?"

"Don't be so panicked, my love!" His cocksure smile softened in a benevolently vague smile, brightening Timeena's face and her cocoa brown embers, alight by her boyfriend's benevolence and wisdom. "I think God has some kind of a task for us or we can always consult with him if something worries ya to be a woman instead of the man you used to be." Heavy sigh flushed the brunette's chest, chewing on her lower roseate lip with her front ivory, still firm for her age teeth. Then one of the older man's colossal, protective hands cupped his lover's cheek, a thumb tracing gingerly, studiously the well-defined cheekbone effortlessly kind. "What do you think?"

"Urm, I think I'll be good to be as a woman. I actually don't have problems, but," Stutter limped in the beginning of her tongue, quirk cusping her thin, dark eyebrows. "But it's something new for me, you know!"

"Yeah, I get ya which mustn't bother ya at all, honey! You can set the cups of coffee on the table, while I'll take care of the breakfast," A delicate, faint kiss, depressed on the former nun's cheek made Timeena to molt into as a stray puppy, scooped in his new foster owner's warmly, affectionately consoling embrace. "Okay?" In the meanwhile, she managed a meek, diligent nod in solemn agreement by grappling by the both mugs' handles, lugging them from the countertop until they perched on the kitchen table without unintentionally spilling a mouthful of caffeine liquid from the porcelain mug, due to the budges. "Good! Do not overwhelm yourself since the morning! You know me how much it upsets me with loath to behold yar facial expression without mirth and glossiness!" Then the British compatriot retired up to the kitchen table, placing the both mugs of morning coffee, consequently seating and awaiting patiently for her boyfriend to join her.

"_And I won't make it any other way__! __Oh, I've seen fire and I've seen rain__! __I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end__! __I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend__! __But I always thought that I'd see you again__! __Been walking my mind to an easy time my back turned towards the sun__!_"

As soon as the eggs with vegetables were scrambled, afterwards the pan was removed from the hob and the plates were already set on the dining table.

Within a couple of insatiable bites, lingering on their tongues and lacing their teeth with chunks of scrambled eggs after sedulously munching them, the silence wasn't fogging the room.

"Mmm, you're undeniably fantastic cook!"

"You're so sweet!" Gruffily clearing his throat with cough after munching another bite from his breakfast, the silverware fork was grasped with a couple of fingers. "I didn't mean to make it awkward or something, but, in fact, we're just with swapped genders, what's yar name?"

"Timeena! What about yours, sweetheart?"

"You've quite interesting and cute name, to be honest!" After gripping the cup's handle, thus sipping from the searing caffeine beverage and swallowed liquid gushing down his organs, resuscitated them with youthful, refreshing energy, oozing of his facial expressions and muscles. Girlishly coy snicker clicked bluntly, blatantly Timmena's strawberry-coloured tongue, almost choking on the gulped sip from her coffee. For her own luck, evading the big trouble with choking and struggling coughing. "I truly mean it." Morever, Judah skipped delivering the answer to his girlfriend's posed question.

"I'm sure it sounds pretty ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?" The sharp tone of emphasis vibrated in the former holy man's throat, squinting at his lover, furrowing his thick dark eyebrows. "Timeena, you don't have any clue whose name sounds even funnier than yars! So now no shenanigans. And my name is Judah."

"Judah?" Crinkles violently formed on the young lady's forehead, still gnawing on her lower lip, whereas Judah bobbed his head in strong, doubtless agreement. "I like it!"

"Ya have to be kidding me, alright?" In the interim, the British compatriot docilely, humbly shook her head, whirring eloquently, melodically hedonistic to herself. "Judah sounds exactly like Judas by removing the last letter and replacing it with _H_." Hissing the emphasis in her utterance through her gritted, coffee-stained teeth, the Bostonian rolled his caramel brown irises.

"_Lord knows when the cold wind blows it'll turn your head around__! __Well, there's hours of time on the telephone line to talk about things__! __To come__s__weet dreams and flying machines in pieces on the ground__! __Oh, I've seen fire and I've seen rain__! __I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end__!_"

Once the both pious former members of the church finished with their meals, thereafter Timeena promised to take care of the already used cups with caffeine's sludge smeared insides and flatly superficially scrambled egg-smeared plates, scoured with scorching jet water and lather, baptizing the plates' surfaces. Whilst Timeena was taking care of the mugs and dishes, Judah cleant the kitchen table and aided somehow his girlfriend to wash the dishes as team players.

\- _A Couple of Hours Later_ -

In the interval, whilst the brunette drifted off asleep, sunk in an absent catnap on the leather, convenient couch after switching off the channels and gawking glassily, jadedly with her groggy irises, darted to the translucent television screen. Frequent jumpcuts illustrated on the television screen. From a culinary television show, then switching on a documentary about sea animals and eventually the impending destination which is rather a soap opera.

The British aristocrat wasn't a keen fan of watching soap operas or literally anything with opulent of romance in its production, airing out on the television.

After shopping from the nigh grocery store, Judah arrived at home at the low thrumming of television screen and witnessing his lover's senseless condition, overtaking her petite frame. Her legs and arms were outstretched carelessly on the piece of furniture like a dumped, godforsaken corpse. Her naturally roseate, soft as velvet chanted quietly notoriously creaky snores, levitating in the living room. Bags of beehive of grocery products like naturally harvested fruits and vegetables, milk, yoghurt and a huge bottle of Pepsi until the grocery bags were vacated from the middle-aged man's arms, abandoning them on the dining table and scooting up to the living room and his shoes attempting to produce tiptoes up to the couch, managing a pensive, wary purse, flattening his lips.

"Sweetie, I'm home! I bought for us fresh vegetables, fruit, Pepsi, yoghurt and milk!" The Bostonian purred proclaim until his hazelish-brown irises landed on the motionless body of his girlfriend. Mirth fell from his porcelain, charming complexion at the sight of Timeena slumbering and dwelled in her dreams' realm. His instincts versed him urgently to lift up in a bridal lift the former nun after heaving her weightless, slender body from the leather sofa with an ease. A strong, muscly arm draped around Timeena's slim waist, whilst another pair of muscly, masculine arm drew underneath her inner thighs, supporting her weight by carrying her gingerly from the living room up to their bedroom they shared together and dropping her small frame on the king-sized bed without hurting her.

Sigh of relief flared Judah's nostrils, sitting on the edge of the double bed, managing to reach his mammoth, featherly-delicate hand up to the British aristocrat's chubby, well-carved cheek. Bulky, doting fingers doted on the smooth as baby skin, dedicated to the caress, bearing a semblance of a mother caressing her newborn's cheek traced the curve of her cheekbone, consequently the tad of thumb glithering downward to her earlobe, rubbing its silky flesh. Nerves probing her sensitivity even when the sleep was swaddling her warmly as a newborn baby. Sympathetically angelic smile blossomed on the middle-aged man's pale-pinkish lips, admiring his lover's ethereal, exemplary grace. Exemplerally ethereal grace, painted with bright, vivid colors of symmetrically contoured facial features and slender, petite-frame.

"No matter if you're my Timothy or Timeena, you're going to be always my beautiful one of a kind and yar forever mine!" Meantime, the blonde tucked a fistful of stray, wild brown strands behind the younger lady's petite, sensitive ear.


	24. Darker Than Sin TIMOTHY HOWARD X MALE

**Author's Note****: This one-shot is going to be actually a blasphemy for some of my readers, nevertheless, I don't care anymore. It's actually dedicated to one pal of mine, who's also obsessed with Timothy like me, besides a fanfiction writer like me and why not dedicating dearly a present for him? If you are against LGBT and religion kink, besides the drugs disgust you, hence, I'm not responsible for your emotions and feelings after reading this work except how the one-shot affects you. Furthermore, don't read it in your own risk! Anyway I hope you like and enjoy it as well! :))**

_Trigger Warning for _****_Sexual Content, Religion Kink and Drugs___

Like every clergyman, Timothy Howard was diligent and dedicated to his own career dearly and keeping his irreparable vows unbreakable once the sin weathers him or his impulsive, human instincts. Taking solemnly his vows a couple of years ago and joining the priesthood was one of the toughest, complacent ever took decision in his own fragile life. His family and friends even clergy members sternly cautioned him once taking the farther step in his own life, full of surprises, full of dynamic roller coasters and joining the priesthood at early age, on the contrary he'd deeply regret for his own decision for the rest of his days. Why the regret would be one of the most painful emotions the British compatriot would ever feel and experience? Missing his great deal of opportunity to make his own family, finding the ideal soulmate anywhere, having his own adorable little birds, teach and love them and relish every aspect of the life. Anyway his decisions were sequencing their own relentless, inescapable consequences.

A mere like the other days early morning was embraced by the early spring balmy, saturating sun dispersing its own sun rays' light, filtering the empty, lethally silent church. Jubilant, eloquent birdsongs encircled the abbey. The sun was smiling to everybody even to the most despondent surroundings, cloaked in somber attires of upsetness, disquietude and sorrow, besides frowning and grimacing their faces, heavier wrinkles and crinkles decorating them like Christmas trees.

The priests and nuns have already their own breakfast, besides reciting in a murmur their morning prayers. So as Timothy already did.

The monumental, double plywood door was pushed by fashioned in balled fists hands of the holy man, stepping inside the abbey. His oxford shoes clicked against the cemented, dull flooring, producing motonous, recurring clicks per a step. No business was awaiting the members of the clergy inside the church unless something spontaneously fills their hectic daily schedules by paying a visit to certain places, obligating their presences.

The holy home of God blanketed in serene silence the British compatriot, relishing the silence that tingled its own ballad in his sensitive ears. His nostrils inhaled inwardly the alluring fragrance of flowerbeds which usually are planted and nourished nigh the church territory. His cocoa brown orbs, filtered with the most vibrant, kindhearted cocoa nuance mottling them and cocksurely peeping the lacquered pews. An eerie flat line was smeared across his baby pinkish, soft as satin lips which had never savored a kiss from the representative of the opposite sex. Neither a smile as a warm welcome, nor a frown.

Once the British aristocrat approached the altar, his strong, virginal fingers knotted, kneeling beside the altar and bowing his head meekly, fluttering shut his eyelids. His baby-pinkish lips commenced reciting in a mumble the prayer, limping back and forward in his throat.

"Hail Mary full of Grace, the Lord is with thee." Once the holy man commenced with the prayer, his velvety, British lilt accented the holy utterance nonchalantly. "Blessed are thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus." Shortly after reciting the prayer, all of a sudden the background noise of pushed double door startled him, almost snapping him out of his holy utterance, chewing on his lower plumpish lip pensively. "Holy Mary Mother of God," In the interval, masculine, familiar footsteps echoed, producing frequent, featureless click against the cemented, grayish flooring. The older man's heart rate rabidly rapid increased, the drums of the pulsations throbbed vehemently, verging his flimsy heart to spring up from his ribcage. "Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen!" After straightening his posture, throughout he gestured the Sign of the Cross solemnly until he felt a younger priest's mammoth, veiny and stiff hand clawing his broad, muscly shoulder, fingers teasingly ushering him to turn though hesitance contoured Timothy's charming facial features. "Oh! Father Richard, I haven't been expecting you so far right now!" Cherry blush touched the older man's chubby, well-carved cheeks after turning to face Father Richard with a benevolently sympathetic, glowing smile, indicating his friendliness and open-minded nature. Pair of warm chocolate brown jewels met another pair of light green jewels. Like smoky quartz and jade. Two of a kind gemstones with their own authentic uniqueness, lavish luster and quality contradicting each other.

Father Richard was actually a gentleman in his mid-twenties with dark ginger hair, capping his head and light green jewels, adorning his young-looking, fresh complexion with its luster palish skin tone. Further, he was slightly taller than Timothy with a few inches and his body structure was mildly chubbier, nevertheless, still athletic for his own frail age. Last but not least, Richard was actually coming from the south part of the country and having a tough life in his early adulthood by struggling with the sex, drugs and alcohol even his criminal deeds, endangering his entire freedom out of prison and its housing prisoners of their own fate inmates. Thanks to Timothy and a few other clergy members, his life wasn't actually fated any longer to be blemished with its heinous deeds and guilty pleasures. His full name was Richard Todd Winstead and Richard has actually reared in Georgia and emigranting in Boston, Massachusetts in his early adulthood for a fresh start after graduating from high school. His family wasn't murderously wealthy at all. Eventually his grandparents were the wealthy, lucky ones until he lose them in his-mid adolescence due to natural causes.

"Are you actually praying even after the morning prayer, Timothy?" Meantime, the older man managed a nod in strong agreement, seizing his plump lips in a pensive purse, reluctant to resist the urge. "No wonder how devotional you're actually to the church!"

"In fact, I'm praying even when it doesn't concern the morning, night and afternoon prayers, that doesn't make me the most devotional member of the church." Sternity punctured the British aristocrat's explaination, whereas Richard raised an arch of his dark, thick eyebrow, listening attentively his mentor's explaination without cutting him off, in order to disrespect him at any cost. "There's a big difference between the most pious person or a priest or a nun and person, who isn't even pious as much as the average general population but praying for themselves or somebody else's soul, if you get me!"

"I think I've to agree with you. The prayers are perfectly normal to be part even of the non-religious people's daily lives and helping them to be blessed or at least secured by God," A lump, bubbling up in the older man of the cloth's Adam apple, subsequently was managed in a swallow in the back of his throat, while it was oblivious for him how the Georgian licked greedily, idly his cherub, pale lips. "God's eyes constantly making sure whether if we're endangered by the sins or the crude coldness of the life with its abundance of ordeals." The eloequence in the Georgian's utterance tingled angelic anthems in Timothy's ears, being beyond pleasantly mesmerized by his well-scholared nature.

"I'm pretty surprised by your intelligence and how do you exactly formulate it, Richard! That's already a good progress with overcoming from your shell." An affable, kindhearted pat on the muscular, broad shoulder was swatted by the British aristocrat. The symphony of hoarse, half-hearted snickers escaped their tongues after Richard unclawed his colossal, veiny hand from his mentor's shoulder. A honored, content smile embellished Richard's complexion after the warmhearted words emboldened him like an elating, eloquent morning birdsong. "It's been a few years since I met you for first time and I helped you to overcome with your ordeals from the past life you're no longer adapted to."

"It's thanks to you and some of our beloved men of the cloth, who helped me to escape from the spiderweb of my crimes and dangers." A half-hearted, continous snicker clicked the roof of Georgian's mouth, staring cordially at the older priest's alight coffee brown irises. Immense gratitude swaddled his flimsy heart, whilst expressing his own gratitude for finding his own rescue behind the abbey's walls and dedicating his young life to the cloth. "If it wasn't you or either of them, no wonder what life awaited me!" In the meantime, Richard the Georgian swallowed hard, sluggishly his throat managing to functionate properly at the bittersweet memories of his gloomy past. A shadow was casted on his blanched face. The smile ebbed out, subsequently sketching a salty, disquiet frown. The both clergymen's faces brightly, metaphorically contrasted one another. Timothy's optimism and radiance weren't wanning at all unlike his own protégé's facial attributes, losing its luster radiance and happiness. Rather something upsetting was brushing its darker nuances the humanoid prospect. "Either covering my own tracks, " Ducking shamefacedly his head at the thought of his past and the resurfacing memories for example participating cluelessly, bluntly in a bar fight with a couple of innocent people and breaking their noses or brittle body parts. "To be caught red handed and spending the rest of my days inside the jailbars," Woeful grin temporarily decorated his face. "Or otherwise, the police to be after me and running free from them, migrating from a place to place and acknowledging my danger."

"It's okay," In the meantime, the middle-aged man scooped in a tight, warmhearted hug his own protégé, curling his strong, muscular arms around his upper back and the gap of their proximity closing. Scarcely an inch dividing their baleful proximity. The ginger's face was buried in the crook of the brunette's arm, melting in the kind, platonically affectionate hug. They'd like brother duo, uniting them and Timothy sensing Richard as his own younger brother, in spite of having a handful of older brothers with a couple of years his seniors. "Richard! It's just the past and I'm not judging you for who you used to be and what did you become."

"I know!"

"The life is too short for so much sorrow and suffering from the pain you've endured." Mutual warmness absorbed their frail skeletons, pressed altogether in the scooped consoling embrace.

"Indeed!" Within a handful of moments, the both men broke off the hug until the ginger seated on the nigh pew, maneuvering with a pat on the separate seat to invite his mentor to join him and sit alongside each other. Delighted, open-minded smile parted upon the older member of the clergy's berry-coloured lips, thus sitting alongside his protégé and the younger member of the church's hand drifted up to Timothy's upper back, pawing it with his long, nimble fingers. "I know how personal is this question, howsoever, I'm wondering and sometimes it's okay to talk about way too personal stuff, if you get me," Suddenly his light green irises diminished its green opacity, consequently ablaze brass pigment pigmenting the huge, round eyes. Darkening his gaze at his mentor. Infernally altering the gaze's aura and energy, furnishing his irises. Perhaps the vile essence has found its new home and the unholy spirits inhabiting nobody else than the former drug dealer's tall, athletic figure.

"S-Sure! Why not?" The haphazard retaliation of the middle-aged man surprised the former drug dealer. All of a sudden, Timothy felt something odd altering his protégé's outstanding features. For example, noting his eyes were no longer the bright light green as he remembered them ideally. The amiable, sympathetic smile, tattoing his youthful, alabaster face and embracing with open arms the strangers and other members of the clergy. "What does exactly interest you to ask me as a personal question, Richard?"

"I've always wondered if you've always been a devout Christian especially a example, wondering what it would be like with somebody from the same gender or a woman," With a cough, the young gentleman cleared his throat gruffily, easening his potency, puncturing his rhetorical the moment, his hand slithered downward to his panted thigh, stroking gingerly, delicately with his potent, nimble fingers the rigid slacks' fabric, admiring the curve of his thigh. Suddenly the brunette's cocoa brown orbs flickered down, following Richard's delicate motion of his caress, swallowing hard at the unhallowed, blasphemic prospect and the posed question which was ongoing or they're a handful of, accruing in the same time. "Adopting or having your own children! At least, savoring the desires of your life." With his solely free colossal, stiff hand he retrieved a package of cocaine with a rolled vertically dollar as an unholy, dosing equipment. The pungent unhallowed sweet scent of cocaine quickly wafted across the older priest's sensitive nostrils, flaring them after the package of cocaine chaffed his twain of chocolate brown embers, igniting glaring, darkening flames. "You're indeed right the life is too short for sorrow and pain, but the life is too short to regret even for the guilty pleasures and desires," Meantime, the British compatriot's complexion was twisted in a grotesque grimace, angst pulsating in his large frame and adrenaline pumping into his veins. Galore of questions swarming his cataract of thoughts with a handful of reasonable, rational answers, seeking for the genuine solution. Even though Patrick has joined the church with intentions, opposititng his former guilty pleasures and desires, however, speechlessness and nonplus contorted his facial muscles, unable to think clearly and sort his mind adequately.

"I've actually thought about making my own family with a woman by my side with our lovely children, despite, as you can see, Richard," Unwelcoming stony enunciation highlighted his revelation. "I'm already married to God and my body belongs to God. Soul, mind and body!" Emphasis highlighted his last sentence, puncturing its hair-rising timbre with his serpentine venomous tongue. Oddly pleasant sensation sedated his muscles and bones after Richard rested his heinously clawing hand on his panted thigh, haphazard gasp limping in the back of Timothy's tongue. He has never been attracted to somebody as a representative of the same sex. It was a blasphemy. Against his career. Against his unarguably irreparable vows. Against the society's norms and morals. It was one of the most ginormous blasphemies even than getting laid with an unmarried lady, regardless her actual age. "Richard, no! We can't do this and hide right away this drug before somebody catches up in this oddness."

"No, no, no, Timothy! It's okay to snort some cocaine and to feel the ecstasy and its effects of this sweet drug." After unpacking the package of the oyster-white drug, thereafter his only free hand's fingers fondled sensually, lightly his thigh. The touch beared a semblance of more than a friendship and speaking the language of blasphemy. The language of the double trouble which awaited them if somebody entered in the church nonetheless haphazardly and reports to the senior man of the cloth Father Malachi about their unholy acts and the illegal drug they're keeping inside the abbey under God's judgmental, fierce glares and hostile scowls. "It won't hurt to snort a small scale of the cocaine dose, will it?"

"Just no! You're a recover drug dealer, Richard! This must be reported to-"

"If you think you're capable of reporting this to Father Malachi, you're awfully wrong, Tim!" After clicking his tongue emphatically, cockily soothing, whilst Timothy was lifting his finger balefully to reject the offer to savor the drug with a mere snort, a wicked, sardonic giggle seared the corners of the ginger's mouth. His fingers slipped down to his round, well-shaped knee. Ruckus of restlessness brewed and cooked inside the British aristocrat's organs and mild nausea swamping the pit of his stomach. Nausea of never feeling a sexual attraction towards homosexuals or leaning to the homosexualism which was morally wrong in the contemporary world of the recent decade unless the laws are rewritten for better and be liberal towards the same-sex marriages and relationships even people. "You don't want him to know about our little secret, because you know who's going to be the one who's screwed up?" Warm, minty breath fanned the brunette's earlobe after bending down to muffle his whisper past his ear. Shivers danced down his spine and body of embarrassment, sweetness and nonplus. "Huh?" Then the redhead closed the gap, his ivory, youthfully firm teeth nibbling the delicate skin of Timothy's earlobe, thereafter licking it with his strawberry-coloured, mint-stained tongue while his fingers worked on kneading the roundness of his athletic, slim knee. He mewled a fevered, honeyed groan, curling his baby-pinkish lips after his protégé was teasing his earlobe between his teeth. In the interim, the ambitious clergyman swallowed hard, holding his stare with his protégé, sheepishly bobbing his head in agreement. "Good! As we shall keep our little secret just between us," Then he shoveled his knee to the cemented flooring, ushering him to sit on his knees beside the sitting younger holy man. Meanwhile, the British aristocrat's mouth opened in a soft O, agape by the domineering nature of his protégé. Little did he know what has gotten in his vulnerable identity. Wasn't he possessed? Is it possible a priest to be possessed? There was nothing unsacred as a fragment or the demons levitating through the invisible air, invincibly inhabiting its own vulnerable victims' bodies and commanding them to sin unspeakably. "These tiresome clothes are keeping you heat as if you're burning eventually." At the moment, Richard's supernaturally potent, dexterous fingers reached for Timothy's blazer, peeling it off from his torso and tossing carelessly on the altar without thinking twice. Although Timothy's efforts to stop in a halt his protégé from taking off his clerical attires, they weren't enough to get rid off the rigid attires of the cloth as they were slowly but surely peeling off and before that unarmored. "Shhh! Do not whine for help! It's just us, Timothy!" Licking greedily, gamely his cherub, pale lips, encouraging himself to take the further step with tempting his mentor and the package of cocaine was dumped alongside his rear.

"N-No! That's morally wrong. It's a blasphem-" All of a sudden, a forefinger silenced the older holy man's softly opened mouth, widening his chocolate brown embers hesitantly, dumbfoundedly.

"Blasphemy if you don't keep yourself quiet! Just relax," As soon as the British compatriot's body was donned in nothing else than his cotton, convenient boxers, afterwards Richard ushered dominatively the older gentleman to undress him up. "I can't stand these attires anymore! Take them off! But do it just slowly and naturally." Gamely winking at his mentor spoke volumes, whereas the middle-aged man's pristine, strong fingers curled on Richard's neatly buttoned shirt especially the first buttons, clumsily playing with them until they slipped off from the charcoal black shirt, gradually exposing his hairy, yet jets of breathing muscly chest. His coffee brown pools wandered downward to his fingers, indicating the recent progress. Sparkles of awe danced inside his smoky quartz jewels, glistening thousand patterns of wonderment. Chidlike curiosity flickered up his thoughts. After undoing each button gradually, he peeled off warily and steadily the stubborn dark shirt from the redhead's torso until the both pairs of tops were piling up recklessly the altar. "Excellent! Now just stop until I tell you when to continue." The British aristocrat bobbed docilely, diligently his head in agreement as the ginger took the older gentleman's fingers, violently running them all over his toned, hairy torso, admiring his masculinity. Smug, criminal grin flexed the Georgian's facial muscles. Glinting his delicious lust for his mentor whom he's never felt for him ever before, intoxicating him to insanity with every ounce. Complacent gasp and moan slipped from the Georgian's tongue, cocking back his head, the foreign fingers starting to trace by themselves the genuine sensation and sentiment with giving his virtue to a representative of the opposite sex. His brass eyes fluttered tightly shut, cherishing the steamy, masculine touch that was his second nature at last. "Do you like it?"

"It's so soft." Timothy was in awe, admiring the possessed clergyman's creamy, muscly chest, his fingers lingering on the flesh. Whispering velvety, he fathomed that he liked touching men and it was strangely hedonistic sensation for him. It was foreign, full of secrets and paradoxal mysteries, but also an eye candy for him. The middle-aged man couldn't resist the urge to linger his awe-enchanted ogle on the possessed priest and focusing on teasing his torso's muscles as if they were in seventh heaven. "And so smooth. Wow!"

"D-Do you like it was my question?" Mild irritation was punctured in the Georgian's southern, deep lilt, resonance vibrating through his throat, attempting to not ruin the ideal moment they've both dedicated their own desires and covets. Oblivion trapped in the darkness their already broken vows.

"Oh, I didn't hear the question!" After gnawing on his upper lip slowly between his front teeth, he nodded modestly, headstrongly. "It's terribly strange, however, I like it." Throughout the series of fondles, the brunette replaced his fingers with series of affectionate, feather kisses, peppered overally the redhead's torso from his delicate collarbones down to the beginnings of his armored groins.

"C'mon, big boy!" At the moment, the younger gentleman snatched forcefully Timothy by his bare, smooth shoulder, their faces sealing the proximity as their soft lips crashed in an embarrassingly at first sweet kiss. Initially, the British aristocrat what he coveted was to withdraw with a handful of inches his face even lips from the current target, pick up his discarded garments by donning himself and flee the church without turning his back. One of his arms was hooked on the other priest's middle for support. Miraculously the middle-aged gentleman didn't resist the impulse to melt in the kiss, shutting his eyelids efficiently and moaning as their kissed ferociously progressed until he followed meekly his protégé's instructions consciously as their wet tongues begun dueling each other persistently. "Your mouth is pretty sweet." After the redhead's tongue won the duel, thus he plugged his tongue inside the brunette's mouth, deepening in a French kiss and his fingers moved up to Timothy's dark hair, playing with it incessantly, deliciously and the tads of his fingers admiring the crispy softness of his mentor's chestnut hair. "It does wonders to me, big boy!" Afterwards it slithered from his lips downward to the sensitive skin of Timothy's neck, peppering series of tender, light kisses until they escalated to ferociously aggressive along with using technically his bloodthirsty teeth to tease and nip the palish neck.

"Holy Jesus! That's," Stammer limping back and forth in the back of his throat, the British aristocrat cocked back his head delightfully, molting in his lover's aggressive neck kisses and nibbles, biting his lower cherub lip. Salivating his own cherub lips at the thought of his lover's nimbleness prickling his epidermis with electrifying epidermis. Their hearts sunk in oblivion as their vows and bids were oblivious for them, no longer problematically binding their train of thoughts, railing its vagons. "Awfully," Emphasizing the adjective, his heart raced after the Georgian left savage tracks of hickeys, tinting the British aristocrat's neck. "Good! Mmmm!" After humming melodiously, Timothy felt fingers snaked and grasped his swan neck with the freshly planted sanguine hickeys, adorning his delicate flesh. The grasp buckled his throat, opting to not squirm and his toes curled up in his oxford shoes. The older man mewled a quiet yelp, trying his best to mute the pain until Richard unbuckled his own trousers' belt and unzipped them in a swift motion, tuggling his calves and ankles, the itchy, rigid fabric pooling his ankles and tossing them on the flooring. Meantime, Richard withdrew his parchment, glossy complexion from his mentor's throat and taking their time to admire one another's facial attributes, whereas snatching surreptitiously the package of lily-white, illegal drug and unpacking it by powdering overally his torso with thick, marvelous dosages of cocaine down to his boxers' waistband. Last but not least, the God's judgmental, fierce glares and the background noises, emanating from outside were oblivious for the both gentlemen.

"Do you like it rough?" Crinkles twisted the cusp of the other man of the cloth's dark, thick eyebrows, wedging his lips in a reluctant purse after surging a sharp exhale, fresh oxygen flaring his nostrils at the sinfully sweet fragrance of cocaine, wafting like luster eye candy gardenia's aroma, tempting him to snort the illegal drug which he mustn't even savor. "Now snort this and tell me how you feel afterward!" The silence answered his insisting posed question, reclining on the pew and giving a better access to the brunette to grab the rolled as a scroll dollar from his protracted hand, buckling with his fingers, curled around Timothy's throat forcefully, emboldeningly. When a couple of fingers supported the rolled dollar, consequently the British aristocrat begun snorting overally, slowly and steadily the dosage of the drug, powdering his nostril, sliding smoothly downward until concluding with a last snuffle and the knuckles of his fingers brushing his nose after withdrawing with a handful of inches his face, inhaling the pungent, scrumptious aroma of the drug. Ecstasy sedating his bones and muscles along with his facial features. He felt already the rough fingers, texturing sadism unwrapping around his throat. After throwing back his head, Timothy licked smoothly, scrumptiously his lips, complacent to savor the sin.

"I'm speechless." The blunt confession, escaping guturraly the older member of the church's berry-coloured, damp lips and opening his eyelids, dwelling out of the heavenly realm, blossomed complacent smirks across the both clergymen's faces. "That was horrifyingly wonderful."


	25. Ardor's Breeds CONSAVIS

Author's Note: Finally I am writing an one-shot which is slightly different. It's not just about Elsa or anything with dream couples even OCs shipped with my favorite Ahs characters that are actually my obsession except the new language's couple that is translating in the one-shot series is Constance and Travis or rather the ship name for them Consavis. To be honest, I'm mildly nervous how this one-shot is going to be rated by the others though it's mildly AU, due for not watching Murder House for months and I don't recall it perfectly as Asylum or Freak show.  
Anyway I hope you like and enjoy it!

_Trigger Warning For 💀Strong Language, Masturbation, Fingering, Oral Sex(The Female Earning it) and Sexual Content 💀_

The contemporary world, full of dangers and crude realism blanketed superficially the huge world like veneered plywood, attached to the walls for extending the isolation's potent. The contemporary world was darkened not only by galore of psychopaths and recidivists with rich criminal record, paging their heinous deeds, moreover the lavish assemble of serial killers, burglars, liars, frauds, manipulators, ghosts and just perfectly normal types.

The ghost was an ambiguous moniker. Rather for the translucent figures, endlessly and wretchedly expediting their adventure overally the familiar and unfamiliar areas for them after the malfunction of the peace swaddling them as a pearly child in the heaven's sweet, comforting clouds and opulent of breathtaking towers, homes and gardens being part of their new home and situated on the clouds as God and his servants and angels' diligent, strong-willed hard work with their calloused after the strenuous dirty work of constructing and building for the recently welcomed souls that have just found peace with themselves lastly their homes for their absolute eternal peace. Former mortals with ethereally timeless souls, dwelling out of their fleshy corpses when the mortals' days were already reckoned not only by God, but also by the celestial's book, paging every living being's birth date and date of their exact death.  
Or on the contrary, the ghost person of the earthborn world, who doesn't want to participate and to be associated with anything socially even finding its own job, making friendships and own family with adorable children, spawning from its own one of a kind spawns with a specific breed, passively lives its own life and not having fun like traveling, discovering new, enigmatic places and the ethereal nature's aesthetic and grace.

The infamous Murder House was already inhabited by the newly arrived family the Harmons and their optimistic intentions of having a fresh start in Los Angeles with their occupancy of the two-story, old, dilapidating house. Unlike the neighbourhood house which actually belonged to Constance with her children and her toy boy Travis, everything seemed peaceful.

The night was quieter in the neighbourhood. The round, full moon gleamed palish, luster light dark areas, marking its own territory of conquer. The night lamps weren't flickering at all. The nocturnal, eloquent song of the crickets danced, encircling the lethally silent locality. Certain facades' lights were turned on, keeping the passing strangers and vehicles' wits about the life beneath the facades' walls.

Constance sent her toy boy Travis to the nigh grocery store for a couple of cigarette packages, a fine bourbon and a few ingredients which were missing in the refrigerator for certain meals' preparation. Anyway Adelaide preferred to accompany the young man, in fact, she quickly became fond of Travis platonically and appreciated his optimism and his advises, brightly contrasting her mother's pragmatic worldview, cusping with sheer pessimism and her unfair treatment sometimes due to despondent spirits, overtaking her like deadly sins after blatantly violating the one of the ten commandements at least.

No wonder where Tate would be unlike not staying so much at his own house and paying a visit to the current Harmons' property, crucially because of Violet and climbing surreptitiously to her bedroom's window like a young Romeo, head over heels in love with his own Juliette as a young forbidden love even though Violet's parents noticed how their daughter wasn't attending school regularly lately and staying at home essentially because of the bullies and spending more time with the ghost of Tate, who's responsible for the mass shooting in one of the high schools.

After monotonous clicks wobbling up to the front door's threshold, Travis and Adelaide were on their journey to the grocery store which was frequently working even shortly after midnight.

"I don't know what's your mother's problem," After a heavy, stubborn sigh coursed from the top of his clean, youthful lungs, whereas the older lady's roseate lips were curled in an eerie flat line, indicating her neutrality. Neither a frown, nor a smile. The both adults were passing through the locality's illuminated even darkened houses, their footsteps scarcely echoing against the cemented sidewalk. "We argue quite often due to our disagreements and she doesn't clearly understand my wishes." His complaint spoke volumes and emotions how the huge age gap affected the former actress's relationship with the young man, due to their disagreements and completely different worldviews, clashing altogether.

"Mom is sometimes like that. You can always expect her controversial opinion especially if you aren't feeling ready for it." The middle-aged woman glanced back at the young man. "And you tell her right away, but anyway the honesty is truly appreciated."

"Sometimes she's quite bitchy, however, I cannot dump her, Addie," Emphasis highlighted the adjective after glancing back at the middle-aged woman as his neck-length chestnut hair bounced with every step, vaguely echoing the cemented sidewalk. A woeful smile perched on his pale, cherub lips. The light autumn zephyr bristling and fanning their bounching hairs and blanketing with mild chilliness their solely exposed fleshes to the nocturnal autumn zephyr, the young man's heart was tearing off on trillions of glassy, flimsy pieces due to the potent, heating discords they're having on certain topics and the impossible intention of dumping her even cheating on her with younger, ageless lady, spiking his bones and muscles with sore pain. "I truly love her and she's straightforward as a bullet which I truly appreciate as a trait of hers, at least!"

"It's true and she told me you'd make the perfect father for being so nice to me and Beau." Suddenly cherry blush touched his chubby, well-sculptured cheeks. Flattery muting off his vortex of thoughts and molting his heart at the candidly touching words of Adelaide. A childlike mirthful smile broke Adelaide's facial expression, inhaling inwardly, elatedly the fresh autumn, nocturnal air.

"D-Did she truly say that?" Meantime, the juvenile actor gnawed on his lower pale-pinkish lip, incredulity contouring his charming facial features.

"Yeah, mom truly meant it! Whatever she says, she says it from the bottom of her heart!"

"Well, I'm gonna need his address." Travis's lips parted in the blunt scoff, overlooking the young woman, who was standing eerily in the middle of the countless's house yard which they passed through.

"Whose address?" A jubilant, inauthentic giggle escaped her tongue after tickling her round stomach and throat.

"The man who taught her to be honest. So I can send him a thank you card." The punchline of the joke broke to tears and stomachache the both adults as they stopped in a halt on the sidewalk, incapable of controlling their cordial, high-spirited guffaws, tickling their stomaches and corners of their mouth until the young gentleman felt a feminine, unfamiliar hand clawing beggingly his muscly, broad shoulder.

"No need to! But that's pretty good punchline of the joke, Travis! You're supposed to become a comedian." Oblivious of Hayden's presence, their mouths were widely opened in the healthy laughter, sinisterly contrasting the crickets' songs and the lethal silence, overpowering any background noise. "Travis, look behind you!" Afterwards the mirth once decorating their facial features after the punchline of the joke climaxed, a startled flat line replaced the radiant, cheerful smile of Adelaide, ebbing out the merriness, sheening her chubby, round profile.

"Oh, look at you!" A half-hearted hiss escaped the brunette's tongue, shortly before seductively, cocksurely grinning at the handyman after turning to face the stranger ghost. "The old hag's toy boy," Haughty, infernal chuckle clicked the roof of the ghost's mouth. In the meanwhile, the middle-aged lady attempted to not take seriously the brunette, whereas the handyman's jaw chattered, gritting his teeth and grimacing his face, glare casted on Hayden's porcelain, young-looking complexion. "Where are you going or rather thinking of going?"

"First and foremost, it's not your business! Second, Constance isn't an old hag and I'm not her toy boy! Is that clear to you, Miss?" The sharp, rebuking timbre of Travis, bubbling up a lump in his Adam's apple punctured his hostility towards the former mortal. Dark smirk indicated Hayden's arrogance, embellishing his beautiful, youthful facial attributes, while her coffee brown irises spoke emotions. Emotions of lust, conceit and stubbornness sparkling and dancing across her indiscernible coffee brown jewels.

"It's just Hayden," Meanwhile, her cold breath fanned his face, in spite of the actor withdrew with a handful of inches, increasing the proximity he shared with the spectral and discomfort and nausea immersing the pit of his belly. "And I'm sure you're so sick and tired of that old hag telling you whatever to do and yelling at you!" A quirk creased the young gentleman's dark, thick eyebrows, narrowing them fiercely, whilst Adelaide swallowed hard at the younger lady's derisive words after searing her venomous serpentine tongue and slipping out as an attack.

"You're full of shit, Hayden! You don't have any idea," All of a sudden, the spectral tried her best to approach the actor, although his withdrawal from her and the middle-aged woman's pudgy hand reaching for his mammoth, smoothly soothing hand, squeezing it gently and her fingers knotting the knuckles.

"Travis, it's better for us to go and ignore this little slut!" At the moment, Adelaide cut off curtly, sharply Travis, dragging him towards her, in order to flee the antagonizing territory and not wasting valuable time with the brunette. "Constance wouldn't be alright if we waste so much time." The handyman managed a nod to the older lady with a vague smile, blossoming on his parchment complexion, averting his glare from the stranger.

"You're absolutely right, Addie!" After backing up his stepdaughter, he didn't turn his back ever again to face even glimpse back at the former mortal, continuing their journey to the grocery store. "What a waste of time with that psychotic charlatan!" Even though a few minutes of bland conversation and taunts between him and the stranger, nevertheless, it aided him to show her true colors and what her malicious intentions were capable of harming and succumbing the juvenile gentleman if his childlike naivety allowed him to resurface without Constance's daughter company by his side.

"Constance is only using you, because of your youthful beauty and for taking care of her kids!" In spite of the brunette's manipulative nature and her authorative caution, the older adults overlooked her as if her existence ceased for them. The impending destination to the supermarket wasn't tiresome at all for the both adults after confronting the formal mortal.

In less than a quarter an hour, Travis and Adelaide entered in the supermarket which was unamusingly almost empty except a horde of teenagers and a few middle-aged adults. The store's interior was embraced by a handful of sellers, working night shifts and wearing kindhearted, glowing smiles, smeared across their lips. The speakers lowly humming the evening news and thereafter shuffling with abundance of modern songs was something common to tingle indifferent tunes for the customers. With a nod and simple greeting at the sellers, their presences dunk their steps inside the store and commencing their adventorous journey with a shopping cart and inspecting the corners of the supermarket for the supplies which Constance sent her lover.

The smoothness of their supermarket voyage through the numerous racks of junk food, vegetables, fruit, noodles and rich variety of pastas, home supplies and many others was a retrospective sequence of not disappointing Constance with their absence, lingering on the streets or anywhere else. After the required supplies and Buffalo Trace bourbon were set in the shopping cart, suddenly the actor transported the cart to the rack with the galore choice of sweets and subsequently putting a big chocolate bar, earning Adelaide's incredulity, raising an arch of her dark eyebrow, whilst wobbling up to her step-father and her mouth opened in a soft O, agape by the actor's chocolate append to the other stores.

"Travis, that's awfully sweet but it's needless!" Stammer lurched awkwardly backward and forward in her throat. Flatter flapped its golden wings of self-consciousness, consequently fleeing in the heavenly realm of her childish side and her pure adoration for the sweets. Uncomfortability paralyzed her trembling fingers, pawing the steel material of the shopping cart.

"Sweetheart, you're a special one of a kind that deserves a present at least once to pamper yourself!"

"I've always appreciated your goodwill and the affection you give me as my own father," Swallowing hard while woefully peeping over the shopping cart and the eyecandy prospect of the chocolate bar glimmering crystalline, translucent tears into her dark jewels. "And the tea parties with Beau and I, nevertheless," Even the oddness in addressing the man, who was with a decade and something her juniors her own father, it wasn't something scary at all. Even more there were situations where the children were older than their own step parents, replacing the absent parent due to abundance of reasons. Regardless abandoning its own family due to galore of reasons, death or other reasons, they were still family together and nothing separated them.

"Needless to complain and the life is too short for abstaining yourself from the guilty pleasures which you may taste them for last time!" What discomforted the middle-aged lady was how Travis's goodwill was feudening with her amalgamation of rough, unruly stubbornness and hedonism, brewing and cooking inside her. Benevolently optimistic smile brushed his pale-pinkish, luscious lips and daubing the glimmering tears from the older lady's lower eyelids with the pad of his thumb. "Moreover, your mother won't say anything about the chocolate!" Thereafter she returned the smile more beamingly, scintillatingly, brightened by her step-father's ebullience, oozing of him with the most vibrant, sprightly aura and designating his true identity with his selflessness, caringness and sheer, platonic love. "Come on, sweetheart! Let's not waste valuable time and make your mom round the bend!" With a mere usher, maneuvering the middle-aged woman to follow the handyman up to the pay desk as a final quest, before fleeing the grocery store at last.

In a few minutes, the both adults' hands were equipped with shopping bags and headstrongly heading on their way to home. The brisk walk to their final destination- namely the home sweet home was quite challenging with the extra weight, burdening their hands and fingers recurringly, their skins coating persistently with clamminess and their muscles dwindling after the great deal of carriage on foot from the store up to the two-story mansion. The moonlight's gleam and street lights casted luminous illumination on the walking figures and their hairs bouncing with each step, progressing to the target area. Last but not least, the brunette's breathing hitched and hindering it with rustiness and murderous weight, incessantly pumping in her chest. The restlessness blanched her face, sketching the facial attributes with doubtless need of rest.

Midnight's ballad was chanting through the common silence, uninterrupted except when a group of teenagers were assembling in the corner of desolated parks, buildings and zones, drinking and carelessly, blatantly dumping beer cans or bottles, the butts of already smoked cigarettes and series of shenanigans swimming smoothly through their minds and dripping from their cigarette-stained mouths. There weren't many of them, still lurking circa the neighbourhoods and slums nonetheless.

Anyway the darker episodes of the day were deemed as endangering even for the horde of people, who were absolutely appreciating the nocturnal's ambience, the isolation from the rich crowds of strangers, overcrowding the downtown and the public institutions during daylight. Abhoring with their entire heart the daylight, the sun and the light and the ginormous crowds, slowing them down, the dark daily episodes weren't guranting their safety at all. It was rather a peculiar trap for them and menacing heinously them physically and mentally. Paranoia muting off their instincts and the domineering major role of the irrationality and hallucinations, tinting their visions commenced chasing them down. The silence was absolutely baleful and way more expressively aggressive than the verbality and ruckus. Crucifying the preys with sudden attacks from behind, no matter if a lunatic, offender or recevidist, contemplating in the defenseless's figure the weak spot spontaneously or the rare cases of nobody taking a bullet for them after beehive or a single bullet was aimed at the coveted target. Or rather, often a battlefield of harassment, bullies and bland shenanigans and execrates.

As soon as they got back at home safe and sound with no traces of harm or attempted harassment or abuse, the shopping bags were already set on the kitchen table as Travis was distributing the products for the refrigerator with Adelaide's help until they were emptied eventually and she snatched gratefully the chocolate bar, unpacking it agitatedly and her fingers curled around the paper's material, protecting the sweet from staining with unbearably sticky, nevertheless, indisputably sinfully sweet chocolate staining her fingers and hands.

"Mmmm! That's deadly delicious." The middle-aged woman seated on the dining table, her ivory, still firm for her mid-life stage teeth munching unbendingly the molting in the corners of her mouth's brown sweet. The flavor adorning her teeth with chocolate sweetened the teeth with the malevolent caries, worth for risking savoring the sweetest things of the life. Her round, chocolate brown pools fluttered shut, relishing the molting chocolate phenomenon, lingering on her teeth and tongue.

What it baffled the young man was that Constance was nowhere seen on the first floor. Little did he know where his lover could be at the moment. He didn't have any intentions of violating her personal space with all regards to respect her privacy. After scratching uneasily the top of his head with his small, neatly trimmed fingernails, the suddenness of familiarly recognizable, richly feminine and shrilling moans tingled angelic hymns into his sensitive ears, snapping him out of the blank reality.

Initially, the young man's pryingness yanked every passive thought out of its comfort zone and functioning and flickering vividly in his blizzard of thoughts. Strangely the house's silence was far from promising and granting him modicum of healthy coziness. After taking off his leather jacket from his frail skeleton and hanging it on the coat hanger, all of a sudden, the handyman escalated the stairway for the second and following courageously the direction of the series of loud moans.

Flush crawled beneath his facial skin of his well-defined cheeks, glancing at every direction of the second floor's hallway, in case, if Beau or Tate is nearby or somebody else emerges from nowhere. His colossal, creamy as satin hand fashioned in a balled fist rapped on the shut bedroom door after his pluck glinted.

"Constance, I'm home!" All of a sudden, the hedonistic moans and groans subdued in the background as the former actress's satin, leanly legs were widely folded, her long gilded mop of tousled, recalcitrant curls, piled up on her chiffon floral top's hem was pushed up to her shoulders, consequently exposing her velvet torso which was solely donned in a white, lacy brassiere. Her obsidian black pencil skirt and white, lacy panties were discarded and scattered daredevilly on the floor.

"Dammit, Travis! Why ya were slightly late?" Her Virginia lilt accentuated her cuss, lingering in her throat, whilst her front ivory, yet firm for her age front teeth nibbled her lower naturally rosy-coloured, plumpish lip. Mild humid perspiration was glazing her labia, fingers and inner thighs. "Where have you been?"

"I was to the supermarket with Addie."

"And what else?" Sweltering jealousy was plaguing the older woman, licking surreptitiously subtly, quietly her fingers with a quiet sound of popping them up after savoring her own juices and wetness. Her folds were still drenched even after hearing her lover's voice. A fistful of stray strands framed her round, full profile. "Did you fuck one of the town pumps nearby?"

"No, no, of course not! I'd never do such a thing, honey!" After heaving a deep breath from the top of his lungs and his fingers trembling, lingering on the door knob, his front teeth gnawed on his upper lip sheepishly. "But there was one slut that I confronted on my way to the grocery store."

"Are you talking about Hayden?" The awkwardness of dividing the both adults' proximity with two rooms was unnerving the blonde, inhaling the lavish aroma of her own juices, perspiration and lilacs.

"Mhm! She opted to turn me against you, but I stood for you, of course! And luckily, Addie was there to interrupt the conflict, persuading me to continue our journey instead of," After a lump budded up in his Adam's apple, thus his throat muscles managed to gulp the salty, dry lump. The blush was tropically heating his facial skin. "Wasting time to argue with her."

"Good for both of ya! You don't have any idea what kind of a bitchy slut is Hayden and ya better be careful the next time you see her!" The sternity punctured her caution, flopping a fistful of stray aureate tresses with one of her petite, creamy hands, whilst the other propped her weight, clawing the rumpled duvet. "But let's change the topic! I'm starting to get nervous."

"May I come in?" His politeness spotlighted his posed question, licking his chappy, pale lips.

"Needless to ask! Just come in, honey!" The manipulative, seductive timbre emphasized the friendly nickname, her only free hand's long, slim as piano keys fingers pawed her mauve bundle of nerves until the door swung opened after the handyman pressed the doorknob and shut behind him the door after stepping inside. The prospect of his half-naked lover embraced him with sophisticated amalgamation of genuine over the moon, befuddlement and slight embarrassment painted across his handsome facial attributes. Smugly succumbing, enticing smirk curled upon her roseate, cherub lips, drinking his facial expression as he approached slowly but surely the king-sized bed. His azure blue jewels landed on the older lady, vaguely beaming at her.

What it astonished to bones the young man was catching his lover masturbating and half-naked on the top of the double bed.

"Very polite to invite me in your bedroom and seeing you half-naked as an ashamed teenager after having her first time and being caught in a big trouble by somebody!" In the interim, the younger man's lips parted in the scoff, emitting a merry, guttural chuckle as the blonde joined him in unison. Her smoky quartz embers were darted to her lover, licking greedily, gamely her cherub lips and parting them in a soft O, pretending to be an innocent teenager, beholding her boyfriend and awaiting for him to approach. Coveting to savor the luscious flavor of his masculine, outstanding lips.

"Did you bought the cigarettes and fine bourbon I wanted along with the other products?"

"I did."

"Good boy!" Then her once propping its weight hand reached for his muscular, broad shoulder, clawing it viciously, whereas spreading widely her lean, alabaster legs giving him a better access to her cleanly, freshly shaved core which flabbergasted the younger man. "Ya may be rewarded with tasting my honeypot and doing whatever ya want as honorable reward for your responsibility!" At the moment, Travis straddled her by seating against her as her legs were hooked around his neck, capturing her rosy-coloured, plumpish lips in a hardening, impressive kiss. Resiliently silencing the both lovers as they molted and oblivion of their surroundings numbing their worries and bids, their eyes fluttered shut and melting in the steamy kiss. One of his mammoth, veiny hands managed to reach for her jaw, cupping her chin and fingers delicately cradling her jaw line, whereas his other hand's fingers lowered to her pink swollen bud, kneading it with his fingertips the erected bud and clamminess baptizing his fingers overally. "Oh fuck! Don't stop it, sweetie!" Fevered moan with a great deal mix of slurring her cussings, incapable of muting her horniness and cussing, their kisses escalated to ferociously aggressive as their wet, strawberry-coloured tongues started dancing rhythmically until the actor inserted his tongue inside his lover's mouth, subsequently deepening in a French kiss and still rubbing on circles steadily the bundle of nerves with a thumb, whilst inseting a couple of fingers inside her core by pushing them in and out. "Yar a fucking amaze, Travis!"

"Everything for you, sweetie!" Thereafter they broke off the kiss after nipping her lower lip and unplugging his tongue from her mouth as Constance was playing incessantly with his wild chestnut, neck-length hair. "You're so tight! Oh God!" Breathless gasp escaped Travis's throat and his darkened lapis lazuli orbs were transfixed on the blonde's collapsed head on the cotton pillow, contemplating her ethereal, almost ageless grace, regardless her age and what facial expressions were masking her.

"Oh fuck! You don't have any clue how awfully amazing is this!"

Series of loud groans and moans slipped from her tongue, syllables and vowels hestitantly pressing the roof of her mouth, dying on her tongue tip. Within a handful of minutes of succumbing tease, afterwards the young man unplugged his fingers from Constance juicy core by leaning against her bare lower abdomen, glancing back at her porcelain complexion seconds before starting to eat her out. Meantime, her elvish hands cupped the soft fat of her round breasts, palming the lacy brassiere securing her erected, mauve nipples.

"Sweet Jesus! Yar mouth is doing wonders to me!" Travis's berry-coloured, wet tongue worked on manipulating a greedy lick his fingers and relishing the mouth-watering juices of the older woman, seconds before his tongue circling circa her hard clit. "Just don't stop!" What the blonde craved for was the moment to be as endless as the roaming ghosts. His hands were clawing her inner thighs and labia, giving him a better access to her core as his tongue constantly flicked around her swollen bud and nipping it mechanically and technically with his teeth. "Travis! Fuck!" High-pitched, uncontrollable croak scratched her throat and brittle lungs, buckling boldly her hips until his tongue slipped at her entrance and suckling on the lake of juices, lacing his tongue and the corners of his mouth bloodthirstily. Her bloody red manicured fingernails reached for her cleavage, digging them masochistically at the tender flesh of her soft fat and welting and scraping with bright red. "Holy shit!" After series of shrilling, bloodthirsty moans and groans swimming in the bedroom's background, the actor's strawberry-coloured tongue explored the unexplored, luscious areas of his lover's areas.

Within a few minutes, the former actress climaxed as the younger man removed his tongue from her entrance and gulping and savoring the insatiable juices of the blonde, licking greedily, complacently his cherub lips and straightening his spine by getting from the double bed.

Again the nocturnal silence overtook the two-story mansion just like before. For their own luck, nobody dared to enter and discover the consequences of the love nest's battlefield and the midnight snack.


	26. Destined Miracles or Nightmares NUNSIGNO

Author's Note: I know there are some people who will think it's abomination young adults to have children or at least expecting their own children, nevertheless, do not risk reading this work if that's not your thing, nor Nunsignor. First and foremost, that's a sequel or spin-off of the one-shot High School Romance especially for these who've read it. Last but not least, if you haven't checked the one-shot High School Romance, in order to not spoil this work with the sequel, thereafter check it immediately.

I hope you like and enjoy this one-shot anyway! :))

_Trigger Warning for __ S__trong Language _

\- _A Couple of Weeks Later or So_ -

A couple of weeks have elapsed quicker than the summer breeze and delightfully for the young adults after making love for first time in their school's restroom. Little did the British compatriot know that his girlfriend was pregnant with their love child even more scarcely noting any alter in her except her mood swings and food craves were the true symptoms of something unpredictable for them.

The young woman has been through a sandstorm of mood swings, food craves, morning sicknesses and gradual weight gain in the past weeks after her boyfriend impregnated her and scarcely using any protection against preventing the chance of having their own children when they're still students.

Solely the Bostonian knew that she's still going through the blowminding sandstorm which is inevitably encountered by every pregnant lady, regardless her age. Initially, her mother Hazel thought she's ill and something else is the genuine symptom of her uncommon condition.

Furthermore, the Bostonian was far from confident to inform Timothy even Hazel about the roller coaster she's been through lately. It was something inexorable. It was arcane. Stilling the patches of the hollow with paradoxal mysteries and secrets, solely knowledgable for the young woman.

Notwithstanding the circumstances, after finishing her day at school on Monday and informing her mother that she'll delay with her arrival at home, due to her arranged time for doctor to consult with him, the young lady's petite figure was school uniform-clad. Her leanly long, spider legs were managing the choir of frequent bounce with impatience and uneasiness. Girlish, naïve insecurity painting her facial features with an eerie flat line, brushing her roseate, chapped lips peculiarly. Her honey brown flamed impatience and self-consciousness. A handful of strangers, perhaps having an arranged time for Judy's doctor circled the half-orphan. Her dainty hands fidgeted on her lap and chattered her jaw after glancing at the antique wall clock, indicating five o'clock in the afternoon. Her heart rates increased rabidly rapid, battering frequently in her ribcage.

The hospital was crowded by not only doctors, but also majorly by seniors, pregnant ladies, newborns and people whether with minor or major infections or illnesses, plaguing them and indicating their still remaining time for living that was elapsing as quick as dart. They were the ginormous number of patients, institutionalized behind the dull hospital's walls for cure.

What the blonde loathed more than anything besides the other pet peeves like lying, stealing, betrayal, loneliness and losing somebody significantly dearly was waiting with hours like a sloppy icycle in a place where she wouldn't want to be right away. Notwithstanding the lack of motivation to wait restlessly with endless minutes even hours for the doctor to accept her in his office, anyway Judy was still there. Childlike jitteriness was paralyzing her muscles, bones even cells. Each elapsed second was savored like a minute, consequently pouched like an hour and throughout felt like a year even years and centuries ethereally flat advancing.

As usually after school, whether Judy was supposed to be at home where the crust of housework and preparing dinner were anticipating her or postponing to get back at home by spending time outdoors with her boyfriend even staying at his home which wasn't problematic for Hazel at all.

Suddenly the doctor's office door swung opened with the doctor, himself, propping on the doorframe and psyched up to call over the imminent patient to pay a visit to his office and consult with him.

"Next!" The hoarse, rusty voice of the middle-aged doctor highlighted and Judy's toes curled up in her midnight black, modestly elegant Mary Janes, shoing her petite feet and squinting up her caramel brown orbs at the doctor until a senior woman in the beginning of her seventies lurched up to the doctor's office with a cane, supporting her weightless, howsoever, dead-tired due to the inevitable aging process figure."Mrs. Anderson!" The senior woman stepped inside the doctor's office, whereas the middle-aged man stepped aside, giving more space to the recently accepted patient.

"Damn!" The high schooler bleated a frustrated, impulsive groan under her breath, fortunately, solely distinctive for her, in order to not mortify herself in public and gritting her ivory, firm teeth and averting her eyes from the opened door. Frustrated pout twisted downward her roseate, chapped lips and moistening them with a mere, complacent lick after pivoting her strawberry-coloured, wet tongue, bearing a semblance of contouring a circle centrally.

In the meanwhile, the door shut closed in a mere, obnoxious slam. The background noises were an opulent variety. Bewails of desperate patients even children when they were being sedated. The despondent, breathless wails of future mothers' continous, headstrong pushes until their rays of sunshines emerged from their womb into the crudely cold huge world. The final, lethal wails of inmates before finding their own death on the bed. Despondent, disobedient blubbers of inner circle's relatives, encompassing their beloved relatives, family members or friends' bed as a final destination and grieving over their demises which were sooner or later. The first ever uncontrollable, shrilling baby cries. They composed rich variances and tunes of the ordinary hospital's symphony persistently. From the fraught timbres up to the euphoric and altering every undertone majorly or minorly at least.

"Hey!" All of a sudden, an unfamiliar young woman's voice echoed and bulked her by snapping the half-orphan out of her own world and barriers, thereafter lifting her caramel brown jewels from her feet up to the young woman that was seating against her. "You seem pretty impatient." The older lady was visibly in her early twenties with halo ringlet of gilded unruly, neatly combed strands, framing her oval, full profile with porcelain, fair skin tone that was highlighting exquisitely her youthful, gorgeous facial features like a scintillating, dim moonlight. First and foremost, her jewels were lapis lazuli, brightened by the yellow-lightbulb's-clad hallway of the facility. Her height was approximately 5'8 and her skeletal anatomy was readily longer, heavier and leaner, matching with her flabby stout soft fat, hypodermically clothing her arms, legs and torso, factly, she's recently in the second trimester. Last but not least, her birth town wasn't obviously Boston at all, judging her southern lilt and it was clearly New Mexican. Meanwhile, her spider white, elvish hands were resting on her bump, emboldeningly, steadily kneading and consoling the fresh life that was growing inside her womb and evoluting through the advancing days even weeks and months.

"Yeah, not gonna lie! It's so annoying to wait in front of the doctor's office and to wait for like hours unless they call ya by yar name." The high schooler's tongue crafted the words, limping backward and forward in her throat and afterwards transferring to her tongue, holding the stranger's sapphire blue irises with sheer honesty and naively though the purely inexorable gut feeling of being small, weak and vulnerable under Breana Madison's gaze.

"I know, dear! I want to be right now at home with my husband." A sheer vulnerability contoured Breana's facial attributes, woefully beaming at the juvenile blonde, whose lower plumpish lip was nibbled between her ivory, firm front teeth. "What's your name?" Her southern lilt accentuated her posed question, courtesy and altruism blazed her sufficiently widened indiscernible black pupils.

"Judy!" Her northern lilt, accenting her first name was quivering, whilst protracting an offered petite, creamy hand for a formal handshake though the amalgamation of unarguably unorthodox sensation of comfort, already found in nobody else than in other woman who's slightly older than her and being pregnant.

"Judy! I like it so much!" The New Mexican's facial features softened momentarily after pronouncing eloquently the half-orphan's rhythmical, original name with a blooming graceful smile, indicating her comfort and confidence in Judy's company. At the moment, they both bobbed their head in solemn agreement in unison. "It's nice to meet you, Judy! I'm Breana Madison or just call me on shorter Bri, if you think it's better for you!"

"Of course! That's quite interesting name, ya know!"

"I know!" The hoarseness, jubilance in their giggles didn't vanish in a jiff after shaking formally one another's hands. "What are you up to there? Are you struggling with anything physically?" Meantime, the both young women maintained an appropriate distance in seated position, scarcely having any intentions of averting their stares. The childlike inquisitiveness punctured Breana Madison's enquiry, the smile lingering vibrantly.

"Somewhat or rather, I've strange symptoms from the sort of," The pregnant woman's rosy-coloured, cherub lips seized in a pensive, attentive purse, whereas she was all ears and paying an utter attention to the adolescent. "Mood swings, drastic weight gain as I'm constantly hungry and it's unavoidable." Jude's breathing hitched surrealistically, biting her lip, whilst opting to sort her mind and her rationality to construct an intelligible utterance, although her penurious vocabulary and choice of words to construct one sentence that makes modicum of sense at least. "Let's not forget to mention the morning sicknesses as I wake up every morning before school to throw up in the bathroom. It's so obnoxious and I'm always tired." After propping her forehead with the pads of her delicate, dainty fingers and elbows grazing her mid-thighs, childlike embarrassment and sheepishness flushed her face with cherry blush, touching her well-carved, chubby cheeks. "I don't know what I'm being through. Is God punishing me for being a sinner?" Last but not least, Judy attempted to stifle resiliently the tears to glimmer her lower eyelids and sobs to break her facial expression.

"Do not blame yourself, Judy! I've been through this for months and what I can tell you is that," In the interval, the Bostonian's epidermis battered in violently electrifying goosebumps after sensing the New Mexican's fingers curled around her wrist, strong-willedly grasping to meet her recurring gaze. "You're pregnant!" Suddenly the half-orphan unwrapped her spider pale fingers that were propping her temple, subsequently landing her smoky quartz jewels on Breana's palish, parchment complexion. Her jewels flickered up widened in overwhelmed bewilderment and tongue-tiedness.

"I-I'm pregnant?" Timidness synchronized her stutter, slipping from her mouth and mopishness paralyzed her muscles, bones and mind.

"Yes, you're, Judy! These are the common symptoms of pregnancy." What it startled the young lady was the dynamic skirmish of pregnancy's symptoms, commonly occurring in the representatives of the same sex after engaging themselves in sexual acts. The heart rate rapidly rabid increased the pounds in her flimsy chest and the pulsations into her petite, sensitive ears. Moreover, the recalled memories of her first time with Timothy in their school's restroom after excusing themselves from Math class especially without protection was the crucial reason why galore of questions twiddled in her vortex of thoughts. "I was scared like you in first place that I and my husband aren't ready for a baby and what kind of parents we're going to be and it still insecures us." The velvetness of Breana's soothing symphony tingled angelic anthems in Judy's ears and meekly, insecurely bobbing her head. "But we're still happy together and being impatient to meet the little one within a couple of months."

"That's why I'm here! I want a professionalist to inform me in details what's going on with my body and what the hell I'm going to do afterwards."

"It's a waste of time to trapse yourself with doctors even when somebody, whom you trust as an adult or person who's been through this to inform you in details." With a deep breath, coursing the oxygen from the top of her brittle lungs, the older woman's fingers were stilling on the younger's wrist, subsequently managing to reach for her brittle, rigidly whitened knuckles consolingly massage them with the pads of her fingers. "And save your breath to consult with a doctor unless if something is urgently serious and you struggle seriously physically! It's a total waste of time! Go home! Relax!" In the meanwhile, Breana's other elvish, smooth as satin hand reached up for her chubby, well-sculptured cheek, cupping and palming it gingerly, featherly in the flat of her palm."Inform your inner circle especially the ones you trust mostly that you're having a surprise for them to be happy! There's nothing you must be ashamed of." Oddly, Breana's honeyed, mellow timbre, puncturing her consoling utterance provided unspeakable comfort, warmness and unbelievable reassurance, freezing her insecurities haphazardly, magically. The Bostonian lowered her glance to study the motion of the other blonde's comforting, amusingly warm spider fingers providing physical and mental comfort. Vaguely soft, beaming smile curled upon her roseate, cherub lips recklessly. "If you've any doubts of losing the baby or your both lives being endangered somehow, therefore the doctor can be your last hope, dear! Trust me, I'm completely sure the last thing you want to do right now is keep waiting for the doctor for hours even when you want to be at home or with your boyfriend or friends, I guess!" Meantime, the high schooler managed a docile nod in strong agreement, affirming the other young adult's exclaimation.

"It's true! I think I've to agree with ya, Bri! I've anticipated for like a few days up to today to go the doctor's office and seek professional council about the pregnancy and these odd symptoms." Infernally dark, sardonic snicker clicked the roof of Breana's mouth, stroking gently, lightly Jude's cheek and tracing her well-carved cheekbone with the pad of her thumb.

"They aren't odd symptoms, silly! It's a sequence of your pregnancy and the God blessing you're gifted with. For how long have you been pregnant?"

"A month, I guess!"

"Congratulations, Judy! You're in the first trimester and what I can advise you is to forget about the bad habits like smoking, drinking even doping yourself with drugs and whatever is chemical." An affable, light pat drummed on her feminine, dainty shoulder, grinning mischievously, friendly to the half-orphan. "I'm sure you're enough informed what you should avoid during the pregnancy."

"I think. Even more the stress."

"That's right! I knew it how lethally clever you're, darling!" After snorting an inward, soft inhale with her flexible nostrils, thus the juvenile blonde lifted up her rear from her seat and the amusing warmness and comfort which once clawed every ounce of her was replaced with commonly bloodthirsty coldness and loneliness. "Never think low of yourself and keep your feet on the ground!"

\- _A Handful of Hours Later or So_ -

Tonight Judy was invited over her boyfriend's property to have a family dinner together which was a second nature for them once a week at least. Furthermore, Judy's mother was informed that her only daughter will be back at home slightly late, because of the family dinner in Howards' property. Last but not least, the Bostonian broke the news to her mother about the grandchild that Hazel was anticipating and will emerge within a several months. Initially, what the half-orphan thought was her mother wouldn't fathom and embrace with open arms the fact that she's going to be a grandmother in less than a year. Anyway the maid embraced with open arms as if she was on cloud nine after acknowledging her only child's pregnancy and persuading her to keep the baby instead of risking with abortions which not only will murder bloodily the fresh life that was growing inside, but cease her fertility for eternity and the great chances of pregnancy in the nearby future.

After the adolescent was warmly welcomed by the Howards and sitting against her boyfriend on the dining table, whereas Timothy's older brothers, John and William encircled the Bostonian unproblematically, kindheartedly, the entire family was gathered in the dining room at last.

The dining table was luxuriously adorned with crust of dishes, bowls of vegetarian potato salad, bottle of white wine and British kitchen meals in general, besides glasses for beverages. Tall candles were motionlessly sitting in the middle of the table for escalating the family's delighting, cozy atmosphere.

The hush was succumbed and hardly muted by the lavish soundtrack of chats between family members and acquaintances with the rough slap of heavy rain, pouring in the small city of Massachusetts' outskirts in the wee hours of the night. The luster, pungent fragrance of scrumptious dinner meals, white wine and green salad insatiably wafted across the nostrils, whose owners' mouths were salivating to savor a bite from the meals at least.

Within the minutes of silence and the hedonistically blatant slurps of savored mouth-watering bites from their dishes and swigged tiny sips of the white wine, suddenly the British compatriot's father Philipp broke the ice.

"You seem to act so particularly, Miss Judy!" Philipp's sharp emphasize of his rhetorical retaliation to the half-orphan powdered her well-carved, chubby cheeks with sweltering blush, crawling beneath her alabaster facial skin after girlishly coy glancing at the older man with a vague, half-hearted smile, decorating her face.

"Dad, don't embarrass Judy!" Timothy's older brother William's rebuking snap punctured his gentlemanly manners after confronting Philipp for despondending their invited guest. Coldhearted, hostile frown flatted downward William's lower pale lip, whilst his long, strong fingers were hooked around the silverware fork, grimacing his youthful, parchment complexion. "Leave her at peace to finish her own dinner meal!" The smug, blatant slurps of hungrily, eagerly devouring and munching the chunks of fish and chips in her hydrated mouth tingled apparent tunes into the young man's ears.

"Judy," Meantime, the British aristocrat attempted to draw his girlfriend's attention with addressing her. His cocoa brown embers blazed benevolent nonchalance and altruism which provided naturally, balmy comfort, warmness and love to the young woman. "You okay?"

"I guess." Low-spirituality spotlighted her vouch, ducking her head and gnawing on the raw spot of her lower plumpish lip demurely, glimpsing at the younger man.

"Tim!" The retired accountant cried out loud one of his sons' names sternly, throughout bulking his attention in no time.

"Yes, father?" In the meanwhile, Philipp cleared his throat gruffily with a dry cough after sipping from his glass of wine, his masculinely strong, pudgy fingers snaked around the glass.

"What on earth is going on with your girlfriend? I mean, she's constantly hungry as a bear and her behavior is just," Shrugging his masculinely bulky, broad shoulders in rebuke, whilst Timothy quirked a dark, thick eyebrow quizzically. "Peculiar! Is she pregnant or something?"

"What?" Spontaneous silence arched between the entire assemble, muting the vowels and syllables which were almost crafted by their tongues and limping backward and forward in their throats. Nonplus and ire pulsated into the juvenile future mother's petite-frame. What the teenager was fearing of was her boyfriend's whole family acknowledging her pregnancy and commencing to judge her and label her with diversity of negative labels which have nothing to do with her true identity. "Have you completely lost your mind, Philipp?" At the moment, Diana, Philipp's husband snapped curtly. "It's okay the adolescents to be slightly hungry than usually."

"But look what, Diana! Judy isn't as much hungry as the typical teenagers! In a New York minute she can eat the entire meal without any problem at all. Don't tell me that little slut is carrying our son's baby!"

"Philipp!"

"I think it's not a good idea to stay there!" In the meantime, the Bostonian got up from her seat and was on her way to walk away from the dining room without an ado.

"Judy! No!"

"Look what you did to the poor girl, asshole!" Diana's voice tone increased rapidly within a split second and unhesitantly baring balefully her teeth, shooting a grotesque, unforgiving glare at her husband, whereas the both high schoolers fled the dining room.

"Your father," All of a sudden, the blonde burst in tears, crystalline, fat tears rimming her eyelids and trickling downward on her cheeks, ducking her head shamefacedly, whilst her boyfriend drew her in a tight, doting hug to console her and rubbing her middle. Moreover, Judy was beyond speechless that the family dinner with her classmate and his inner circle was nothing than a failure especially Philipp reacting impulsively obnoxious to the news about the unborn child.

"Don't worry, my rare bird! Everything will be okay!" Meanwhile, her chin managed to rest on the top of his broad, youthfully muscular shoulder and her crystal, translucent tears drenching his convenient sweater and sensing the kindhearted embrace of strong, masculine arms, circling her middle. His sharp jaw rested on the top of her head and pressing a delicate, feather peck on her forehead. "It's unbelievable how yar father reacted about the baby we're expecting."

"Our baby?" In the interval, the half-orphan broke off the embrace with her lover and taking their time to admire one another's facial attributes and daubing with the pads of his fingers the stream of tears, staining with moistness her alabaster facial skin. She bobbed her head, confirming the good news for them as the British compatriot's heart leaped. "That's good news for us, my rare bird! You don't have any clue how much happy did you make me in less than a minute."

"I don't care what yar parents are going to say about our baby anymore, Timothy! It's just ours and only ours and it's their own problem if they overlook our happiness."

"It's true!" After capturing her soft as satin, roseate lips in a reassuringly loving, brief kiss, the last drying tears were daubed with his drenched fingertips, looking up at one another's embers.

"What about school? We'll graduate within a year,"

"Don't worry about school! My older brothers can also look after our one of a kind baby!"


	27. Big Cheese NUNSIGNOR

Author's Note: This one-shot is essentially and finely based on Nirvana's song Big Cheese with which I'm crucially associating Nunsignor due to the lyrics and it became officially my favorite Nirvana song. Honestly, I really like Nirvana as a band for all Nirvana and Nunsignor even musical book enthusiasts, here's one-shot which will hedonistically feed you! I hope you like and enjoy this one-shot though it's not tremendously as long as it supposed to be as whether retribution or forbidden fruit! :))

_Trigger Warning for_ ✞_Mentions of Sexual Content, Strong Language, Attempted Suicide, Gore and Death_ ✞

_Big cheese make me! Mine says, go to the office,_

How long it has been when Jude felt pearly prominent? Even hallowedly precious? Solely in Timothy Howard's divinely pristine, strong hands which had strength for galore of nimble even clumsy efforts, crafted and mastered by his own stark hands. From the small world of his own celestial dreams being inhabited, desires up to what the British compatriot was capable of slipping whether accidentally or on the contrary, impressively intentional. Maliciously as serpentine venom, dripping nimbly from its tongue and envenoming the target to pieces. Or for his good perhaps to wash his hands with the licentious filth and remnant of the already done dirty work, coating thickly, marvelously his pristine fingers?

Their minds were an absolute mess. Chaotic vortex they were whirling and twirling after the mess they've brought to one another, or rather the British aristocrat mudded her and she couldn't be on her own feet for a long time until an old friend aided her for her unrealistic insanity's salvation.

The inner voices even the ghost voices of the priest croaking the most shrilling roar to summon his henchman's spawn was inexorable and pitching Jude's mind even heart. Completely losing her own mind in a nirvanic head over heels in love phenomenon with an almighty revered, divinely venerated holy man who could be her much younger brother, but also her toy boy in the divine tiers of the church. Her mind didn't function rationally at all. It didn't assimilate the scorching hazards that might scorch any muscle and cell of her very being. What the hell she was doing with her own existence even when the former sleazy nightclub singer was just like every living being with her own needs and passions?

_Big cheese make me__! __Mine says, one that stays__,_

After all, the nunnery deprived her from the free lifestyle which might be a plus and a minus for her in the same time. A plus to escape the somber, dilapidating remnants of her grim past and the carnal illness, ceasing her fertility and leaving her a desperate, lonely and childless woman. Escaping the attempted crimes with the cab-clad to a young girl in the blue coat's bones in a late night after another heartbreak because the soldier didn't take her home and the insane quantity of boozed alcohol, highly blurring her functioning vortex of thoughts and hazily and bluntly doing mistakes even mudding her own smooth path. Even when the nunnery was plus for her to be no longer the most notorious town pump in the small city of Massachusetts, she's still the same old Judy Martin. The same old whore. Sea of regrets on top of tempest waves of regrets flooded her guilty conscience.

Minuses of not living the rest of her midlife stage of her life outside the church and aiding the people even without taking solemnly her vows and her petite, gracefully slender figure donned in the miserable cloth of chastity. All dark as the mysteriousness of her arcane grim past. All rigidly and itchily wool as the scabby contritions, contaminating her unpeaceful soul unless prayers were recited or a special companion could console her.

Did the holy woman stayed with Timothy when he needed her the most? She did. What about him either? The crucial question yet spiraled in the chaos unanswered or rather answered with the wrong response.

_Black is black, straight back__! __Need more enemies__! Show you all what a man is__,_

Black is black as the sheer ebony darkness, cloaking everything living and translucent. Black as the death. Black as the sin. Black as the false promise. Black as the unrequited love. Black as the betrayal. Black had luxuriously cluster of incarnations, piling up in remnants of the sequence of lying, betraying, murdering, committing a sin or a crime and detesting.

Where are the enemies? Or on the contrary, who are the ones betraying, committing homicide consciously, bluffing, consciously despising and committing a crime against their sheer innocence and their benevolent nature and the hard work and the love they earned through the years of support, old good friendship and partnership?

How manly the ambitious Monsignor demonstrated he's once he confronted his rare bird with crystal clarity of detecting every lie and every flaw? Missing fragments of toxicity and once stable partnership and friendship with dilapidating puzzle fragments which were slowly but surely tearing off as if cataclysm was shattering to bones everything steadily and arduously built through the years of trust, platonic love, support and respect?

_Big lies make my__, __Mine says go to the office__,_

Lies on top of lies were oozing as a luster fountain from the aspiring Monsignor's mouth once his false promises opted encouragingly persuade his rare bird her release will be arranged and they'll rise together in the highest tiers of the clergy. Lies sugarcoating the great deal of efforts which the Bostonian has sacrificed for the love of her life's sake to be currently a Monsignor, afterwards a revered Cardinal and eventually exalted Pope, dwelling out of the miserable Boston and dwelling in the divinest, goldest corners of Rome with the scarlet satin aisle as his path and sea of mere nuns, general population and priests bowing before him, stormily applauding him and croaking at the top of their brittle lungs his title and holy name. Heartbreaking lies sugarcoated and wrapped exquisitely in abstractly bright envelopes as eye candies and foreshadowing the sequence of the broken promises.

Still lusting after the wrong person who's the perpetrator of the fiery betrayal. Do the liars deserve a second chance and love? Even forgiveness? Forgiveness but never oblivion for their broken promises? Why the liars are ardently worshipped and deemed as Saints, overwhelmingly reigning their minds just to mess up their lives? Nobody ain't a Saint! Judy mustn't eavesdropping the inner echoes and following their instructions of her downfall and lusciously abysmal nemesis.

_Big cheese make me__! __Message? what is it?_

Still the rare bird, the big cheese of his heart, oozing of pure ego, pious warmness and hallowed benevolence and nonchalance. Did his flimsy heart even have modicum room for altruistic love and lust? Probably not! Or rather, love for the people who cared about him, aided him to accomplish his dreams after strong-willedly prevailing them. Flimsy heart full of ignorance and bleakness, swaddling icily in his ribcage and underestimating the monstrous efforts of the Bostonian in her altruistic sacrifice of time and in the name of their love which was scintillatingly blinding either of them especially the victim of falling in love.

As soon as the raised in the highest tiers of the diocese Monsignor's title was replaced with Cardinal and his happy journey to New York was the farewell of Timothy's silhouette for the rare bird, caged inside the lifelessly dull, hoary walls of the madhouse. Mirroring his spectral with his false hopes and the bare brilliance of the memories they've recollected through their dynamic roller coaster of their partnership. From their initial ever encounter back in the St. Andrew's church with the affable, formal handshakes, the idiotically glued uncontrollable grins glimmering across their bared teeth in the beaming facial attributes and the rubicund blush tinging their cheeks through the smooth path, strided effortlessly with the Friday coq-au-vin dinners up to their antagonism with one another.

She was his rara avis. He liked her culinary skills and they'd flee together to Rome with its aureate magical carpet.

The unbroken words were remnants of their unforgettable, unimaginable friendship between members of the clergy, sharing different interests, nevertheless, cooperating in the business somehow whether smoothly or roughly. Unimaginable friendship, full of paradoxal mysteries, arcane somehow romantic bond and potent chemistry which united them. Unforgettable due to the honed edges of the memories, assaulting her thoughts. Why they were vibrantly, nonchalantly contrasting the message, foreshadowing with the farewell they shared just before Timothy Howard's emigration to New York? Is that the message the traitor has addressed to his once beloved and most trusted henchman of his eerily delusional promises which were sugarcoated, sweetly syruped lies? Henchman, the marionette of the diocese and bowing before her own master whom she worshipped him with the cost of her life to grant him the supernal achievements he wouldn't reach even accomplish up to now.

_Black is black straight back__! __Need more enemie__s! __She eats glue how are you?_

Darkness wonderfully overall hovering past and painting everything in ebony nuance, indiscernible anarchic midnight black, absenting the hopes of light and salvation was contemplated into the blonde's eyes, flaming back-breakingly the luminous light in her jewels to illuminate partly the pitch-black world that she's stepping. Why the twilight yet lingered all in front of her? That spoke trouble, of course!

Needless to formulate the reckoned general population, her recent worst foe was the one whom the blonde used to worship even having the impurest thoughts of of his pristine, alabaster fingers lingering in her cleavage even clawing heinously the silken skin of her thighs and waist, his nostrils inhaling the alluring fragrance of the rich lilacs' perfume, lacing Judy's lion mane of flossy old Hollywood gilded tresses that poked his chubby, well-carved cheeks. The breathy, firmly round-shaped breasts bouncing and brushing a toned, muscular chest with its peebled tiny, erected nipples whilst their naked bodies were grinding and synchronized in a choir. Generous layer of perspiration swelteringly coating their sexes and the breathless, lusciously fatalistic moans and groans limping from their wet tongues into the background in the angelic anthem.

Her excessive devotion to somebody the former promiscuous nightclub singer could be oblivious of Timothy's intentions benumbed her with the betrayal, false hopes and desolation.

_Big cheese make me__! __Mine says, go to the office__,_

Was the former woman of the cloth was his rara avis yet even when he's no longer in the small city of Massachusetts? Or rather, his rara avis in her own reverie? When the pigs fly, her head was in the clouds, depiciting the unavoidably impossible scenarios that might be far from real or just a dream she's woken up promptly.

Was the blonde yet thinking of him when he wasn't there anymore with his own insatiable passions and childlike cloud-castles?

_Big cheese make me__! __Mine says, one that stays__,___

Yet the inner voices of conjugated vowels and syllables conceived the friendly, tempting nickname and her smoky quartz jewels alight brightened with scintillating glitter with a smugly rueful smirk, dripping its own salty, gory tears to stain her alabaster, unblemished figure.

Rare bird was far from what Judy was exactly for Timothy. She was his holy bimbo. Holy whore. Devotional mistres that could nurture him.

_Black is black, straight back__! __Need more enemies__! __She eats glue how are you?_

Twilight yet chasing her and most of all, hounding her as casted shadows and demons from her gloomy, haunting past in the most somber, barren outskirts of her recent location. Just to laugh into her face due to her fiasco.

The foe was in New York with his bland lifestyle, hardly leaving the church's monumental, hardwood double door after the mass's assembles.

A few years later after the British compatriot's disappearance from the former licentious nightclub singer's life, still the false hopes chased her. The late 60s were there and still there. Nothing else happened! Nothing new! Nothing climbing upward the horizon for new, fresh hopes to grant modicum of trust in Judy's life to have a sequel and another alternative to lead her to find something immensely meaningful for her woe.

_Black is black straight back__! __Need more enemies__! __Show you all what a man is__,_

The death was the sole salvation to release her wretched soul out of stench of lifeless bleach-clad notorious asylum. Shachath! She! The angel of death! The dark lady with the raven black, neatly trimmed and hairstyled mane, the fishnet dropping from her compact midnight black hat, capping her raven hairstyle, framing her porcelain, full profile with the flawlessly glimmering bloody red lips and celest blue embers, igniting compassionate sympathy and guiltless benevolence. More than ready to press a peck on the impending victim, succumbed in its own wounds, bleeding or demise. It was that dark lady whom Jude has encountered a few times. Not only in the restaurant just shortly after fleeing the bathroom and contemplating the reverie of her death scene, the opulent bloodpool, blanketing her motionless reclined corpse after slitting her own wrists with the letter opener and the eerily running jet water was splashing against the marbled, oldly filthy with limescale sink. Furthermore, their last encounters were in Briarcliff and on her death bed when the illness was consuming her and the demise was embraced with open arms.

Shachath's big cheese was each victim, succumbed by her kiss of the death to peter out every ounce and every ethereally endless pain.

The braveness in her final decisions to innocently end their lives was the genuine aesthetic of the death and the eternal sleep.

_She eats glue how are you?__Need more enemies__,_

Was she still the same in the purgatory? Is there actually a purgatory? An unholy atonement for the wretched and unhallowed souls? Once their impending encounter was situated in the purgatory, thereafter her trust would ebb out and defaulting with emptiness. There was no mercy between them anymore unless their hard work proved there was a redemption for both of them.

After the slitted wrists with the silver razor in the bathtub with its richly pooled heated water, Shachath visited one more person whose masculinity petered out to persistently persevere yet in his own life after the investigation over Briarcliff's nightmares and the former Nazi war criminal Dr. Arden. The clergyman wasn't bothered to embrace with open arms the demise after the siginifncant blood loss, succumbed in his own bleeding and lake of gore. The last thing he beheld just before flapping shut his eyelids was scarlet and ebony.

Was his former right hand still his rival?

_Show you all what a man is__,_

One of the most tempting Achilles' Heel just pitched the purgatory where one more soul found a new home after the committed suicide. The ballad of the uncommon hush, the sole background noises of heels' drums against the floor and inhales and exhales were muting the eternal hush, alagamating and composing its own soundtrack.

Is the younger man going to demonstrate what a man he's in the absolute reality behind the invisible afterlife's realm walls and prove his own heinous deeds to his one of a kind rare bird? Are they yet the big cheeses to each other? The forbidden fruit was trickling its mouth-watering, luminous beads in a loop and deliciously being nipped by the former pious members of the clergy.


	28. Past's Biggest Regret JUDY MARTIN F

Author's Note: Since the 100th episode of AHS aired and another Asylum easter egg popped up when Margaret mentioned about Briarcliff Manor as haunting place, besides Camp Redwood, subsequently it's high time to drop a glimpse at my theory which is the possible connection between Jude and Margaret Booth, in spite of they don't share the same last names. First and foremost, I think Margaret is something like Jude's forgotten daughter and she had it with Casey like in her 30s or 40s, however, Casey doesn't want Margaret to be part of their family and one day he conveyed her either in an orphanage or foster family on his own. Second, they're both immensely pious and no wonder why they were dedicated to the faith just after Jude's car accident in a late night after being heartbroken again and almost murdering a little girl, besides Margaret believed in God and prayed which were the solution to the 1970's massacre that she's the one who was crucially involved as a murderer, unstitching her preys' ears and falsely accusing Mr. Jingles (aka Benjamin). Last but not least, let's not forget they're both blondes and they're leaders in charge though shortly afterwards they aren't in charge any longer.

If you are wondering what's my opinion on Margaret Booth, I'm having mixed feelings about her, howsoever, she's the only Leslie's character that doesn't gives me a pure headache! I like her for being an antagonist and how much different she appears to be, compared to the goofily bland Coco and Meadow, however, I dislike what she did to Brooke and Benjamin (aka Mr. Jingles) even Trevor.

I hope you like and enjoy this one-shot! :))

_Trigger Warning for _💉_Violence & Strong Language _💉

\- _13th of April, 1942 _-

What on earth was going on back in the early forties when everything was perfectly normal or rather harmonizing smoothly, sweetly in Judy's life just two years after dating formally Casey Goodman?

Their sex life has been passionately actve for more than a half a year and optimistically looking forward for the most vibrant, most mirthful and realistically optimistic future they'd ever share as a couple with their unborn child.

Casey and Judy knew one another since their high school's graduation when it was Judy's toughest episode of her life of all time. Just months before turning nineteen, she lost the dearest family member whom she's being rearing with from her fresh birth up to her young adulthood, blooming into a young adult individual with her own discrete and emphatic decisions, battered to her philosophy and one of a kind worldview. Her mother Hazel. Furthermore, the financial bind of granting the sufficient quantity of cash for her high school graduation was also unnerving her and opting to veil her with sheerly thick veil of darkness, casted on her and persistently obscuring any glimpse of light illuminating any ounce of hers. Even though her boyfriend was slightly older than her with a couple of months, his genius idea of celebrating on their own the graduation, deposited in a moonlight picnic and a fresh walk in a desolated park.

Notwithstanding the circumstances of scarcely plotting their wedlock, anyway that didn't cease their brilliant chances of dating one another and continuing smoothly their romantic relationship with children's plan and galore of further plans, involving their future.

The uneasiness of bouncing her crossed youthfully leaned, sculptured in a swan curve leg while seating alongside her boyfriend in the doctor's office, in fact, they had an arranged appointment with Dr. Moore in the wee hours of the morning due to Jude's anxiety to discover what the common symptoms of drastic weight gain, heinous morning sicknesses, mood swings and nauseation clinging to her tiny, flexible nostrils were emanating. Even the young man was murderously anxious about his girlfriend's condition and his luxurious predictions of her occurred pregnancy were binding his mind even lacing his tongue and itching his tongue tip to pour the syllables and vowels, constructing the exact utterance and raise the topic with the Bostonian.

The early morning's celestially golden sun spellbinded vibrant saturation through the widely opened window-binds clad, beautifully beaming at the agitated couple who couldn't even rest for a single second and sort out a single cell from their hurricane of thoughts. The spring was already looting everything from the cold winter climate which enforced them to be equipped with warmer, thicker armor-clad attires and frosty coldness clinging stoutly to their weight.

"Well, Ms. Martin, what is actually bothering you in first place?" The velvety undertone, accentuating Ohion was chanting ballad's tunes, jingling into her petite, vulnerable ears even though it didn't cease her incessant choir of bouncing crossed leg, reassuring smile slitted across his pale-pinkish, thin lips.

"For three straight months, I'm down with mood swings as every pet peeve is making me quite nervous and I wake up every morning to go throw up in the bathroom," The salty lump laced with its saltiness her inner organs and seething fiercely her feminine Adam's apple until she maneuvered her throat muscles to swig the salty tiny bump, her trembling petite, creamily alabaster hands rested on her meager visible bump that carried the fresh life which was growing inside her through the first trimester of her pregnancy. The heavy exhale left her brittle lungs and glancing back at her lover with a vague prissy smile, tugging the corners of her mouth. "I'm constantly hungry even more than a typical adolescent would yearn to consume right away."

"Miss Martin!" In the meantime, the senior doctor's snap caught off guard the young lady, his fingertips futilely, humdrum drumming in a choir against the oak wood bureau, squinting up his apple green cabochons, piercing through her hazelish-brown gemstones with a soothingly calm smile which rendered his visitor even more antsy.

"No, no, doctor! Of course, there's something wrong with me! And that's why I'm here." Suddenly the blonde gentleman draped a muscly, strong arm around her middle, attempting to consolingly compose her, his pale-pinkish, softly satin lips scarcely, but delicately brushing her earlobe, shushing consoling babbles and sweet nothings to his one of a kind lover. "Seeking yar professional help and advice how to deal with those symptoms of my sickness."

"Miss Martin, that's not a sickness! It's a God blessing!"

"God blessing?" Even when the headstrong side illuminated the Bostonian, her white-knuckled calloused hands silkily softened, dropping them in defeat on her hips and her digits combing gently, nervously her cashmere navy blue mini skirt, fingering softly the fabric, barely wrenching widely her hazelish-brown gemstones, still fixated on the older gentleman.

"Just calm down, Miss Martin! And we have fantastic news about the symptoms you've just mentioned." Pausing before managing to gruffily clear his throat with a dry cough, pulsating into his bulky figure, he lingered his apple green cabochons on the recent visitors, having no intentions of daubing his smile presentably. "Those symptoms are the actual signs of your pregnancy."

"D-Does that mean I'm pregnant?" Even though they used for their first time condoms to secure themselves from unwanted pregnancy and carnal infections, at the moment Jude was beyond caught off guard and every syllable and vowel quivered on her tongue tip, almost dying in a desert's whisper, unheard by anyone else. The most fantastic thing she'd covet was acknowledging her own pregnancy even pleasing her boyfriend with the brilliance in the good news and welcoming a family member after advancing through the three trimesters. Reconsidering what Dr. Moore has mentioned about the emanation of the spontaneously hideous symptoms foreshadowing the sequence of the phenomenally breathtaking moment, opening a new chapter in her life as a future mother and parent of her creation that was still living in her womb, made of her and her boyfriend's flesh and blood. "What are ya saying?"

"Congratulations, Miss, you're pregnant!" The haphazardity in the elation's saturation grained the both future parents' youthful facial attributes immediately, vibrantly contrasting the daylight shadows which have obscured quantity of saturation to carpet their facial skin.

Sheer, childlike elation wrenched widened the duo's eyelids, reconsidering and assimilating every ounce of candor in the good news which Casey kept repeating to his girlfriend even though her disbelief.

Little did the blonde know how prodigiously lucky she's to have such supportive boyfriend of hers and most of all, welcoming their little sweet ray of sunshine within a half a year only. Galore of consperative theories how their little cherub angel would resemble even what's his emphatic sex was up to Judy and Casey's creativity and elaborating the gearing thoughts with their rich imagination, depicting consciously and mindly the vista of their creation were submerging their minds and barely daring to dwell out of their cloud nine's realm.

"T-That's too real to be a dream."

"You aren't dreaming, sweetie!" All of a sudden, even when the Bostonian was scintillatingly stunned, scarcely moving a single muscle or flexing her facial muscles even with a timid motion, meanwhile, the juvenile gentleman's berry-coloured, silken lips still sponged her earlobe with a a mild saliva, moistening his lower lip and subsequently pressing a peck on her well-defined, chubby cheek squarely. "We are going to be parents whether of a beautiful girl, being a mini Judy or a mini me as a boy."

\- _Six Months Later or So_ -

\- _13th of October, 1942_ -

Six more months which were indeed calculated in two more fatiguing trimesters, or rather sandstorm of series of mood swings, severe weight gain, morning sicknesses and food cravings with insane quantity of consumed and pouched food were endured successfully with immense prudence and patience, worth the juvenile pairing's time.

Even though Casey wasn't getting along with his family except with his older brother Matthew Harrison, he's the only one who pearly dared to flee his night shift slightly earlier with a few hours, in fact, he pearly cherished his platonic relationship with each future parent and most of all, candidly loving Jude as his own younger sister. Furthermore, the car washer hasn't spoken to his parents for a handful of years, due to their heated debates and discords, involving their common discussions. Last but not least, Matthew was accompanying his younger sibling with two doctors who were currently in charge to take care of the young lady in labour. The first doctor was supervising the ultrasound monitor, whereas his colleague was aiding the young woman in labour.

It was already two o'clock in the morning in the mid-October's yet thickly dark cloak, cloaking the starless sky and the softly, gingerly dancing in tandem waltz autumn zephyr, whistling and bristling the sensitive exposed fleshes to join in the autumn breeze's dance.

The ongoing functioning of the grand façade that yet accepted galore of patients exceedingly from young children up to seniors who were struggling with variety of illnesses especially physical, agonizing each ounce of their flexing and constricting bone-clad muscles was even a precise residence for future mothers in labour and ensuring the sufficient coziness and comfort to deliver their baby right on time even in better conditions than the domestic.

"Waaahhhh!" The initial ever elating, soprano blubbers, pitching the patient's room in the hospital in the very wee hours of the morning churned the trio's hearts, skipping a beat in their ribcages as soon as the second doctor scooped in a warm, secure embrace the newborn baby, swaddled in a conveniently cozy, warm cloth to secure its lower body while haphazardly stretching its roseate powdered, pudgy arms in the thin air.

The sole thing which the juvenile lady could do was flumping on her conveniently cotton pillow, supporting her head after stilling her widely spread legs like a grand book's spread pages for hours and presenting her slit's birth process of the unborn infant's progress by dwelling out of his mother's womb after clinging to her once bulky bump's armor. Meantime, her vaginal muscles, inner thighs and swan-curved, slender calves were sorely shrouding in severe pain after excessively constricting and maneuvering them to work on sliding the newborn from her temporal nine-month-old home, consequently emerging perfectly healthy and safe and sound in the crudely cold world. Crudely cold world which was becoming a survival site for her, regardless her frail age.

"You did a great job, Judy!" In the interim, the gasman manipulated his mammoth, veiny hand to squeeze the Bostonian's frequently quivering in choir marbled, elvish hand to provide her warmness and comfort due to the invicinbily complacent achievement of giving a birth to the infant after spending a couple of hours in the facility with the hideiously pressurable pushes, constricting her petite-frame in general. "I and my brother are tremendously," In the meantime, the dark-haired gentleman ventured to manipulate his solely free hand's digits to brush a fistful of shaggy, greasy aureate curly tresses out of her generously perspiratory-mask clad complexion, bending down to link his lapis lazuli brutally honest, wryly balmy bijous while Matthew's younger sibling was peppering his lover's heaty, roseately powdered cheeks with tender kisses. "Tremendously proud of you for this God Blessing!"

"It's a girl, Miss Martin! Congratulations!" Shortly after the doctor rocked the playing on loop soundtrack of newborn's high-pitched blubbers, consequently she handed it to the younger lady, who dangled her alabasterly satin, maternally secure arms and bouncing and rocking up her little cherub angel to obscure modicum of her uncontrollable whines.

"A girl?"

"Mhm!"

"Aww, look at ya, my little beautiful princess!" When the nameless baby girl rested swaddled in her creator's irresistibly warm hug, the Bostonian has never thought twice of releasing her little sweet ray of sunshine from her own claws and cherishing each second and moment, spent with her nameless baby girl, examining in a scrutiny from head to toes her magnificently outstanding facial attributes. Crystalline translucent tears rimmed her honey brown cabochons, stifling series of sobs after plucking swiftly her lower plumpish lip between her front ivory teeth to scrap the raw spot. "Welcome to our small family addition, sweetheart!" Suddenly the nameless newborn's whines ceased to pitch the sufficiently expansive hospital room, while Casey managed his plump, baby-pinkish lips to buzz a lulling shush to soothe the infant.

"Our beautiful miracle!"

"Our little gorgeous princess, honey! Indeed!"

"She's going to be as beautiful as her own mother." Matthew's wet, strawberry-coloured tongue elaborated the syllables and vowels even forging the kind words even though he's beyond dazzled by his younger brother and his girlfriend's one of a kind angel for her gracefully curly-textured sparse gild hair, capping her silkenly soft baby head, pairing with her big round hazelish-brown gems and photogenically plumpish, baby-pinkish lips. Moreover, the nameless female's skin tone was chalky glossy even tough the rough-grained primrose powder, pricking her epidermis.

At the moment, the hospital room was hushed in a lethal silence, succumbed in the ultrasound monitor's buzzing and Casey's chanting magnificently sweet lulls, while Judy was still cradling and swaying warily their cherub angel pearly, effortlessly.

Even though the both young parents acknowledged their creation's gender just a few months ago after paying a third visit to the doctor to leak them with an ultrasound test perfomed on the blonde that the higher chances of expecting a baby girl were truthfully parallel what they're exactly anticipating eagerly.

Notwithstanding the circumstances, they're planning through the advancing weeks and months shortly after they kept in mind they're anticipating a young girl galore of female names which will ideally suit her. Even though they jotted down on a separate sheet of paper the rich ideas of names for baby girls, their invincible indisposition was succumbing their hurricane of thoughts after indicating the selection of two top favorite names for a female.

"How we're going to name this cupcake?"

"I was thinking of," In the interim, the young woman's naturally mauve, cherub lips parted in a content, vibrant smile, flexing her delicate jaw line while glancing back at the both gentlemen, her heart rate rapidly rabid increased and heart pulsations thudding into her petite, sensitive ears, managing to linger her maneuvered arms to rock the nameless youngster, elaborating a mirthful, girlish giggle, indicating her pure euphoria of her and her boyfriend's God blessing. "Anabelle Snow?" All of a sudden, the blond gentleman shook his head in solemn disapproval, silently positioning his own response. "What are yar thoughts on that name?"

"I was rather thinking Margaret."

"Margaret!" Then series of nods in solemn agreement affirmed the first name they're going to name their little sweet ray of sunshine at last while the juvenile mother curved her mouth in a soft O, baring her teeth in a content grin and shifting instantly her attention to her angel. "Margaret Martin Goodman! Be blessed my little angel."

\- _2 Years or So_ -

\- _26th of October, 1944_ -

Two years of sheer, precious rhapsodies for the both unwed parents and advancing their dynamic roller coaster from feeding Margaret with pure breastmilk, changing a few times daily her diapers and bathing her before bedtime even lulling her to drift off asleep eventually were miraculously the best years they're hopelessly overwhelmed to call themselves parents and almost every dollar being spent on Margaret's comfort and baby supplies.

In spite of there was no other family member who was keeping in touch with the Bostonian, in order to encounter the two-year-old youngster, Matthew was the only inner circle face that was paying a visit to the compact family's small flat once a week and relishing to spend modicum of his leisure time with the little cherub angel. What it monstrously, sinisterly saddened even before Judy's initial encounter with Margaret and propitiously welcoming her in the crudely cold, extensive world was reminiscing her own mother's words before losing her forever physically at last. The sinisterly haunting memories, yet reminiscing and submerging her patchy flimsy heart were how much Hazel covet to have at least one grandchild as her own heir to make her happy even braving her embroidered shiningly radiant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and contemplate the imprintable tracks of her daughter and lover's attributes, scarring their creation's physique. Further, the juvenile mother craved her deceased mother to meet once at least in her own life her little girl even though it's too late right now. Too late for a former mortal with its roaming spirit on the monumental world to accomplish one of her dearest miracles.

Even the rhapsodical moments which Casey and Judy maintained not only as a couple, but also as beatifically lucky parents of a two-year-old daughter and Margaret pelt her very first word on seventh month even commenced to wobble somewhat confidently, freely on almost second year of her fresh life were nothing parallel to the recent nightmare which was confronting headstrongly the young woman.

For a straight week or so, the couple wasn't getting along lately and they could find themselves having common scandals in the wee hours of midnight just when Margaret was profoundly asleep in her own crib. What it significantly unnerved the car washer was that he didn't earn as much attention and affection as his lover from their young girl who was getting bigger with each elapsing day.

For example, just after finishing his shift in the car wash and getting back at home, either the Bostonian was bathing their little ray of sunshine or on the contrary, laying her down to kip and chanting her a silver-tongued, serene lullaby, in order to find herself deeply, peacefully asleep without mewling series of piercing bewails at the top of her brittle, tiny lungs in the middle of the night, still haunted by every childish myth about the somberly morbid silhouettes in the pitch-black room and the monsters lurking in the darkest corners of the room. How about the sinister monsters yet hunkering beneath the bed?

Shortly after Margaret was laid down to kip in her bassinet in her own independent room, in the meanwhile, the juvenile lady was lathering the remaining dishes which she hasn't washed after dinner time, due to her preciously dedicated time spent with her daughter.

Thick coat of foam baptized up to her wrists, whereas the kitchen sink's faucet was turned on and allowing jet water splashing against the sink's grayish surface, drenching the map of blotched lather and drawing the last fleeting used plates, sheening luxurious glossiness shortly after being soaked to pieces lastly. The humdrum soundtrack of splashing water jingled indifferent tunes into the unwed mother's petite, vulnerable ears like an eerily broken record, playing on a loop in a desolated site and the sole alarming tones which she could ever listen to were the broken record's dull rhythm, the exiguous sentiments tinging and affecting even certain remarkable notes.

"For how long Margaret is asleep?" All of a sudden, the young gentleman emerged from the hall, his tall figure was donned in a navy blue bathrobe, guarding his skin against the late-October chilly climate that was pebbling his manhood and masculinely mauve nipples even his kinky, densely jet-black bodyhair.

"For an hour already." Barely turning to glance at the owner's huskily inebriated voice, affecting his Texas lilt maintained the transmuted paradoxally icy chills, prickling her epidermis with electrifying goosebumps and canting her spine. Vaguely prim smile perched upon her naturally roseate, cherub lips, reassuringly and optimistically cusping to persuade herself everything is going to be alright and hopefully there isn't another heated debate, managing it to be ongoing for a handful of hours with series of hostile shouts, fashioned in balled fists hands slamming furnitures and balefully bared teeth. As usually and refilling the car washer's hectic daily schedule as a responsible father of a two-year-old infant and attending regularly his workplace, he's taking a shower every night shortly after dinner.

"Good! I just took a shower and I tried to be as quick as possible to save hot water for you."

"That's so kind of ya, honey!" When the Bostonian drenched the last lathered eating tools and plates and set them warily on the dish drainer, subsequently she turned off the faucet and daubed her soaked hands, ushering her strawberry-coloured, wet tongue to moisten in twirl her upper and lower lip momentarily. "I just washed the dishes, because I didn't have the chance then."

The suddenness of the stretching silence with its thin elasticity almost tearing off when Casey managed to approach his girlfriend was unnerving Jude, whose seething bitter lump was sluggishly swallowed after stretching her throat muscles, darting her smoky quartz jewels, flaming coy insecurity what he's capable of in the impending moment and most of all, the prominence in its delivery of his unpredictability. Meantime, Casey manipulated his both muscly, strong arms to fold across his toned, muscly chest while landing his lapis lazuli cabochons on the petite-frame's porcelain, young-looking complexion with piercing, naked contempt, curling his pale-pinkish lips in a menaching, ambiguous pout, speaking emotions through its grained texture of its pout.

"Casey," Huskily jubilant giggle fell from her mouth, opting to abide as serenely radiant as possible in the most intensifying moment which was her second nature almost every night from the following week."For heaven sake, sweetheart, why ya have to be pouting for nothing like a dissatisfied little boy who didn't earn what he wants actually?"

"Margaret is always important to you as if she's your top priority and I can't even spend modicum of my limited time with her."

"Every child is every parent's priority and she's preciously important to us, Casey!" A heavy sigh unloaded Judy's ribcage while tucking a fistful of unruly gilded tresses behind her ear, being all ears while the stutter lurched backward and forward on her tongue. "And even when ya have enough time to be with her during the weekends, yar just minding your own business."

"That's bullshit! I'm always there for you and our little cherub angel." Even when the intoxicated timbre touched roughly the young man's southern lilt, his foul rotgut breath obnoxiously fanning and hardly brushing his lover's unblemished anhydrite facial skin.

"I didn't mean to be brash or anything, but," A sharp exhale jointed promptly while locking up her smoky quartz orbs with his lapis lazuli, curving her lips in a grotesque, antagonizing frown. In the meantime, Casey maneuvered to quirk an eyebrow quizzically, still questioning what the imminent intents are of the young woman's detective side that dazzled him right away. "Are ya actually tipsy?" All of a sudden, instead of managing a nod in agreement and reaffirming his girlfriend's words, he smacked a slap across her face as the pads of his fingers grazed her cheek, whereas he gritted his teeth menacingly, thus hissing ferociously aggressive. "Jesus! I just asked you a question and that's the answer I'm receiving from ya?" Crystalline translucent tears soused her watery, huge honey brown minerals, yet locking up her stare with his berserk ocean blue which narrowed at the humiliated, weak, small and vulnerable Jude. The frosty doldrum that was arching between the both adults mortified the Bostonian, chewing on her lower lip continuously after snapping her front ivory teeth. Manipulating her brittle fingertips to brush the crimson imprint of the slap, tattooed on her cheek, the Bostonian mewled series of desperate, arcane cooes stoicly. "Don't tell me ya have drunk again shitty rotgut that laced your breath with its crappy filthiness!"

"You really don't know what I'm capable of."

\- _19 Years Later or So_ -

\- _13th of September, 1963_ -

Just years later after Judy lose Margaret, factly, Casey sent Margaret in a foster family surreptitiously and returned back at home empty-handied due to his bloodthirsty vengeance, yearning for more attention from his girlfriend rather than prioritizing their daughter, the juvenile lady joined the church and taking solemnly her vows to escape the free lifestyle of strong liquor, one-night stands, infamous reputation and her somber haunting past of heartbreaks and grim memories. Even shortly before joining the church, she opted to research the orphanages and foster families for her biological daughter which was no longer residing the small city of Massachusetts and most of all, Judy didn't have enough money to afford for travelling in the other states to find Margaret.

Just a couple of years ago after encountering the young, ambitious Monsignor with two home lands in St. Andrew's church, subsequently the former licentious jazz nightclub singer developed potently platonic relationship with him not only as business partners, but also as friends.

At the moment, the middle-aged lady was seating on her hard wood bureau, transfixing her watery smoky quartz gemstones on the misty window and relishing the solicitude that granted her myriad of comfort and rest from the hectic daily schedule that fatigued every ounce of her being and numbed her tornado of thoughts. Her trembling dainty fingers delicately grasped a vintage Polaroid photograph of Margaret's last photo she's ever recollected from her when she's barely two-year-old infant with her shining, beaming smile glimmering past the camera, while being scooped in her secure, alabaster mother's arms and her father was by the nun's left side.

The wee days of the autumn were embraced by the weak, playful breezes and the daily heavy rains, recently slapping violently the shut window and the brick wall of the nefarious asylum's grandiose façade.

Suddenly the oakwood door scarcely notoriously squeaked while the British compatriot was stepping inside his friend's office, thus venturing to shut the door gently without an ado and tiptoeing up to her bureau even though he knew so far how the devotional woman of the cloth wasn't very fond of uninvited visitors without knocking on the door.

"T-Timothy," Even though she hesitantly didn't turn her back to face the owner's arcane presence that her instincts instantly detected with her mind tissues, a heavy, dry sigh disjointed her chest, lingering the twin fat heavy rain of silent tears, trickling down her well-sculptured cheeks, sensing how much her heart ached for her past's biggest regret. Not reaction rationally and right on time to get Margaret even staying away from her former fiancé who not only sent their biological daughter in a foster family, moreover infected her with the vicious syphilis, throughout ceasing her vibrant fertility. The old Polaroid photograph was irreparably blotched with semiopaque tears, staining the thin, fragile material. "Yar supposed to be at work or visit other places where the Cardinal has sent ya." In the interval, the younger man hunkered past her ducked head, squinting up his cocoa brown minerals at her glinting tear-stained, marbled complexion and witnessing her powerless side. His naturally baby-pinkish, plump lips parted in a vaguely glowing, sympathetic smile, inked on his facial features and surveying in the corner of his eye every manneristic body language, indicated in its motion of hers. "What on earth brings ya here?"

Instead of delivering the reply which her enquiry begged for immediately, her conservatively dark wool-rigid-clad sleeved forearm daubed the series of tears, beading her lower eyelids and cheeks, bleating a blatant sob that broke her facial expression and accidentally flumped forward as Timothy lifted her up in a bridal lift, fortunately, evading any sequence of an accident and wee bruises, tinting her flesh.

"What are you upset for, Jude?" The honey ramming his English lilt and the consoling nonchalance in his enquiry tingled angelic hymns into her ears, her heart rate instantaneously perkily increased and impacting the heart drums in her ribcage, narrowing her teary hazelish-brown orbs at his charming facial attributes, amorously illuminating like a widely opened curtain and enamoring her to be head over heels even more with his physique and in general identity. Meantime, her dainty pallish fingers steadily grasped the vintage family photo and her sobs quivered under her breath, managing to usher her throat muscles to pouch the bittersweet lump, bubbling up in her feminine Adam's apple.

"I did one of the most idiotic mistakes ever in my life."

"It's okay, Jude! It's okay to make mistakes." Drawing her close as she buried her tear-stained face into his chest and drenching his priest collar, she gnawed on the raw spot of the delicate skin of her lower plumpish lip frequently to stifle her uncontrollable, despondent sobs. "Shh, shh, shh, don't cry! I won't judge whatever mistake you've ever done." It was amidst the fewest times when the former promiscuous nightclub singer was opening fully in front of the aspiring Monsignor and leaking modicum of her grim past even her somber, unspeakable secrets along with showing her low-spirited side.

"My ex-fiancé stole my daughter on the day after when I was still deeply asleep and gave her to a foster family to look after her, because I was prioritizing her and he almost didn't spend any time with her."

"Every parent is prioritizing their children which perfectly norm-"

"Shortly before I became a nun, I was looking for her. In Boston and everywhere where I could, but she's no longer there. She was somewhere else and under the care of a different household." Series of stammers rolled out of her tongue after struggling sluggishly to construct anything rational and clearly explainable to her motive of her roar. In the interim, Timothy what he could do was warmly consoling his right hand and usher one of his hands to knead her upper back even bend down to capture her forehead in a tender, featherly-soft peck with his berry-coloured, silky lips.

Author's Note: If you have really enjoyed this one-shot, do not forget to leave a feedback and read your thoughts on it! I'd genuinely appreciate your double kindness!

Furthermore, what are your thoughts on my theory? I'd love to hear your opinions! :))


	29. Trick or Sin NUNSIGNOR FEAT FRANE

Author's Note: This one-shot is a Halloween special one with 2 of my favorite OTPs which are going to be the mains in this Halloween special work! Be warned this one-shot is going to be a dynamic roller coaster of trick or treating and sweltering heat, besides quite long so be ready! I hope you like and enjoy it, besides once you finish reading it, do not bother to leave a feedback! It will be kindly appreciated!

Furthermore, this one-shot has its own playlist under the name Trick or Sin on Spotify: playlist/5QEiih0bNbql4eqHT89cLl !

_Trigger Warning for_ 💀_Sexual Content, Strong Language, Oral Sex, Tipsiness, Fingering, Threesom_e💀

Halloween like every other day of the year except the prominent Christian holidays which were emulating somehow to the lifestyle of Sister Jude and the other staff members in the notorious madhouse. Nothing prominent was happening except doing their own job to punish and grant cruder retribution to the patients for their misbehaving with solitary confidement and canes welting and wounding their stark rears, besides they monstrously eager supervising them whether if they're taking their own medicaments, having their regular meals like twice a day and working persistently in the bakery as an addition to knead the dough-shaped breads before being put in the oven and subsequently freshly baking them for their meals. Sister Jude has almost never been a fan of Halloween unlike her childhood when she could recall a couple of times borrowing the fewest friends of her's random attires which they were providing her to disguise herself as something different to be sufficiently questionable to the people who weren't Halloween dogmatists at all. Something peculiar to not be merely parallel to the casual clothing that was muscle-clad. Something finely spooky and emulating to the western event and trick or treating while her mother Hazel was strong-willedly working double shifts as a maid in a hotel.

The patients were still occupying sufficient space in the common room with their ballads of babbles, banging frequently their heads in the brick, lifeless walls or doing something else to bring modicum sense in their bland lives as destined to spend the rest of their days inside a madhouse.

As usually, the blonde was discussing with her boss in her austere, unwelcoming office about the contradicted emptied boxes which once comprised food supplies and ingredients for the bakery and excessively used in their culinary skills which were at the range of novice to artisan.

At the moment, the office door was unknowledgably askew opened with a small space of gap being sufficiently taunting for the passing staff members or dragged inmates to peer due to their childlike inquisitiveness or on the contrary, their presence was just obligated to be situated in the office due to galore of reasons.

"I'm so glad the food supplies and ingredients which are pretty useful for the patients' culinary skills were already delivered even installed in the bakery, Sister!" A sheepishly boyish, complacent smile zipped the British compatriot's pale-pinkish, satinly-soft lips, squinting up his lowered smoky quartz gemstones at his right hand's parchment, elderly-youthful heavy-clad wrinkles, oddly indicated yet her still appealing complexion. What it made immensely proud the British compatriot was his right hand's indisputable responsibility and dedication to her work which refilled her hectic schedule.

"Fairly simple! It's always a pleasure to do something meaninful for the institution's prosperity, Father!" Even when pleasure bizarrely sounded on Judy's tongue tip after emitting the word which was far from appropriate a member of the clergy to peel it promptly, nevertheless, profuse blush powdered mildy her cheeks with cherry pigment, unknowledgably heating the facial skin hypodermically, reclining on the chair whilst her dainty palish fingers were knotted as one. "They'd need them for anything they'd like to cook or at least the nuns using them in their exquisite culinary." A sigh of relief flushed her constricted chest to course at the top of her brittle lungs the cloudy oxygen for proper breathing.

"That's why once a week they're being delivered to Briarcliff or twice a week once the supplies are peaking to be excessively used in the bakery." In the meanwhile, Timothy idly, instinctively shoved his mammoth, stiffily veiny hands in the pockets of his jet-black wool, convenient slacks. Sheer eloquence vomited in his utterance, oozing of his well-scholared character and professionalism.

"They've always to be out of its amount almost in the end of the week. No wonder what turmult of culinary show they're creating!" The genuine rare times whenever Judy demonstrated her childlike side with the goofy jokes and sense of humor in front of Timothy were like once a day or whenever they're in the middle of discussing something professionally grave, involving greatly their business and mental institution's supplies they're currently equipped with. The sole true friends or at least people whom the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer could count on showing her genuine nature with her goofy side were Frank, Timothy and somewhat Mother Claudia with Sister Mary Eunice.

"I don't want even to imagine, Jude!" Their healthily sore snickers clicked the roof of their mouths, pitching the austere, dimly light office with the contagious merry, oozing of their light-spirited aura. The fewest times whenever the aspiring Monsignor could demonstrate modicum of humour even his sensitivity, immune to old soul's seriousness were the punchline of his rare bird's jokes and foreshadowing the sequence of his sincere, beaming smiles, perching upon his porcelain, handsomely young-looking complexion.

"Don't even try to imagine what huge fire they'd put on the bakery!"

"Not every one of them at all!"

"Think twice! There are some clumsy cooks." Meantime, the menacing grins to open in a wide O their mouths were highly increasing the chances to dwell out of the professional realm and populate the corners of their creative quips, when the security guard peered surreptitiously through the compact gap which gave him sufficiently efficient, good view of his friend conversating and relishing her boss's company. The little green monster haphazardly crawled out of its miniature shell and roughly grained the older man's still undeniably handsome facial attributes with the sufficient ounce, weighed heavily and inked on his parchment complexion. At the moment, the former cop's meaty, masculinely strong fingers stubbornly, steadily danced around the wooden doorframe surreptitiously, barely motioning them anywhere else to sidetrack either of the devotional members of the church instantly without an ado even being caught in trouble. "For example Martha may ain't be the big-shot in culinary, however, she once verged the bakery on fire for overbaking the breads."

"Well, Briarcliff isn't a culinary show! Are you up to something tonight?"

"H-How do ya think, Timothy?" Meantime, mischievously haughty grin curved her lips, baring her beautifully ivory teeth with the megawatt quality of her grin, adorning her porcelain, elderly youthful complexion, maneuvering her fidgety dainty fingers to reach for her stray flossy aureate strands that framed her oval, full profile and girlishly, coyly fingers, twirling and curling them between her digits like an ordinary schoolgirl under the ambiguous stare of the aspiring Monsignor who noticed even the pettiest details behind his right hand's mannerism in her body language and utterances, speaking volumes about her physique in general. Even when the Bostonian had meager plans on mind about Halloween with exception to painfully confine herself inside the nefariously dilapidating mental hospital's façade, looking after and punishing the wretched souls for their riot side's blatant demonstration, she assimilated and reconsidered the aspiring Monsignor's enquiry twice at least. Pinkness itchily tickled her chubby, well-carved cheeks and uncomfortably sweltering heat crawling beneath her facial skin, indicating her demure, insecure side in situations where she could scarcely be the genuine source of the answer the owner's question is seeking eagerly."I'm too old for this if yar keeping in mind, I'd celebrate Halloween by myself." The sheer timbres of sarcasm spotlighted her huskily coy giggle, clicking the roof of her mouth, her lower abdomen breezily, delightfully ached due to her contagious glee.

"I remember so far that when I was a little boy even in the beginning of my teenage years, I and my brothers even my younger sister celebrate it."

"Yar such a lucky fellow, you know!"

"Even my older brother with whom I've never got along was anyway wildly fun celebrating Halloween by trick or treating in the nearby neighbourhoods." The homesickness of the British aristocrat that hit him with an abruptly perky slap across his facial features which were softened with naked woeful mirth, due to his rich recollection of memories from his childhood and adolescence. His stormy tempest of thoughts was a home of homesickening memories if it's always been a forbidden sanctum of every member of the church to ponder over their impure thoughts. "Those childhood times were the greatest. I remember how my brothers were having a food fight, while I and my younger sister Anna were just sitting in the corner of the living room and eating calmly our collected sweets from the houses we paid a visit. We were rather the quiet and calm children in our family."

"Sweet Jesus!" The medley of sweetness and bitterness, lacing the pious sister of the church's tongue while peeling the forbidden cussing that was far from acceptable from a revered nun to peel it on her own, she stilled her spidery palish, weathered with starkly vague coldness fingers across the perkily rebellious golden curls, spiraling around her delicate digits and even her persevering attempt to asphyxiating series of nervous, demure chuckles with the raspiest tones, composed in each unidentified syllable after capturing her lower lip basting between her front teeth, the chuckles were inevitably natural and far from reluctant. "I didn't know ya had a wonderful childhood and ya did celebrate Halloween, despite judging your piousness."

"I was just a kid," A heavy sigh flushed his nose, shrugging bashfully his muscularly broad shoulders even though the duo yet wondered how from such a professional topic about the bakery they gambled to tread in quite pleasantly personal space and most of all, discussing a Western holiday that is essentially celebrated by the younger generation with some of their families who weren't amidst the wealthiest people in the entire country. Nevertheless the personal and platonic closure Jude gained due to the very personal colloquy with the British aristocrat boosted their relationship perpetually, strong-willedly even aiding both of them to crawl out of their shells for awhile and just open up themselves in front of each other about their personal lives, reminiscing their childhood and adolescence' luxurious memories in a medley of trauma, merriness, pangs of conscience and reliefs. "Then! But I read the Holy Bible about more than fifty times and you don't have any idea since my young adulthood I haven't even dared to think twice about that unholy holiday. It's already dead to me, my beliefs and vows. Purely dead!"

"I haven't even thought about Halloween like for decades or rather the last time when I celebrated it, I was a fricking kid. But tell me more about yar brother."

"Which one?" The oddness in maintaining superbly intimate proximity with the older woman and ambling up to her effortlessly as while tossing one of her petite, marbled hands, consequently grappling them in a gentlemanly squeeze, binding them in his larger, secure hands, softening his benevolently sympathetic smile, tattooed on his face.

"The one ya aren't getting alolng pretty much." The uncomfortable warmness, fastening the grip of the duo's hands sent paradoxal shivers down Judy's spine and body of cardiac sweetness, pleasure and vague, unnerved embarrassment. This time her exquisitely cherub, naturally roseate lips mitigated her self-esteem with a featherly dainty, girlish smile, sheepishly texturing the flexed feminine jaw line.

"Oh! James!" The heart rate rapidly increased with fierce rabidness, affecting the violent thuds in her ribcage at the sudden, meek gasp, rolling out of Timothy's strawberry-coloured, wet tongue after the sea expelling and sending series of wavelets, dashed to the beach coast. "Even if I loved him as my own brother, because he's my brother, we had many disagreements and he wasn't even considering himself a decent Catholic. James was actually an atheist and believing in Satan rather than God. He didn't even see any association with the light and God." Shaking continuously in a choir his head, throughout his pale-pinkish, plumpish lips managed to flatten in a binded purse, squeezing tighter his rare bird's elvish, weathered icily hands and the tads of his thumbs maneuvered to knead her brittle knuckles comfortingly, friendly.

"Is he also a Satanist?" The soarness, savoured by her tongue after elaborating the religious term wrenched her honey brown minerals widened in pure shock and blowminding disbelief, factly, the fewest Satanists that have ever jingled its tunes into her ears with the genuine construction of the word, were painfully uncommon nowadays.

"Unfortunately, yes! Since his young adulthood, his true devotion to Satan and its occultism became his abrupt obsession even religiously."

"What it has to do with yar hostility?"

"Enough things!" A sharp exhale knitted his toned, muscular chest momentarily, unzipping his lips from the purse while his heart was shattering extrarordinarily perpetual on trillions of glassy fragments, swamping a lavish ocean of somber despondence how weather-beaten was the damage of the discords they had and James's tremendous contempt and abhorrence of his own younger sibling. "I remember when I was a child, he told me once he loved me as his own brother, but when we were already young adults and having our own individual lives with totally different point of views and beliefs, he criticized the Catholic church which was a pure abomination, according to him." In the meanwhile, the security guard was warily eavesdropping the pairing's conversation and a vaguely complacent, lukewarm smirk, envy-textured in its silhouette, obscuring a regular light illuminating his impressively charming facial attributes, mischievously quirking an eyebrow and relishing each fragment of Timothy's revelation, fingertips drumming silently against the oakwood door frame. "And of course, God and anything hallowed was an obnoxious blasphemy for his beliefs and Satanism! Furthermore, when my whole family got back from the church on Christmas, in fact, my family are enough pious to go the church for the special Christian holidays except James who would rather stay at home and practice occultism and Satanism as a typical outsider," Biting his upper lip deftly, the older lady was all ears as always and honing up her ears to assimilate every jingling tune, reconsidering every ounce of the information that was immersing her thoughts. "And seated on the dining table to have lunch, subsequently he picked on me and called me a blasphemic," The bashful unnervedness, troubling him to reproduce the vowels and syllables of the cussing flushed red his parchment, freshly young-looking face, hinting the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer what a ginormous trouble brought to her love interest to utter any word which was out of the adequate clergyman's vocabulary.

"Blasphemic what?"

"Blasphemic asshole!" The sanguine flush, shamefacing the holy man with generous layer of inexorably unbearable heat was readable across his facial features, meanwhile, haphazardly lowering his English lilt's voice once it was high time to slip the cuss immediately and counting on his crystal memories, ideally recalling almost every fragment of his complexly dingy, controversial relationship with his older brother. The bitter flavour of the word urgently seared the corners of his mouth, tightening his relentless frown.

"Shame on yar brother, Tim! I didn't know he'd be capable of insulting you with tremendous hatred due to his zealotry in the occultism and Satanism." Suddenly the religious nun's northern lilt punctured with naked, genuine abhorrence of James's portrayal as if his exact portrayal was parallel to an ill-famed offender, still exceedingly investigated in the entire state by the authorities. No wonder why Judy wasn't very fond of atheists' followers and most of all, believers in Satan's religion! "The brothers are supposed to support and love each other, in spite of their often encountered disagreements but hating each other with every ounce of their being," A frustrated groan with extraordinarily flawless derision sailed out of her plump, naturally mauve lips, stilling her hands in the priest's amicably protective grip, melting into the delicately platonic and hinting romantical intension touch which the former promiscuous nightclub singer has covet to earn or at least experience in tandem with the British aristocrat. How long it has been when a true gentleman or at least ironically metaphoric man has registered modicum of necessary respect and adequate mannerism towards her even manifest his kindheartedness with gingery soft touches and deliciously comforting honey in the utterances and comforts? That was yet a question with outdated answers or at least parallel to the absolute reality's past, associated somehow with flashforward's realm. "The strong hatred is a sin."

"It's undeniable and I told him God will punish him for that sin, but he didn't listen to me. Instead while I was napping and plotting my torture with a knife, he wounded my lower lip and when I woke up, the blood soaked my jaw due to its bleed."

"My goodness!" Her spidery creamy, warmer fingers registered its quiver, shivers cooling her bones and muscles' anatomy with electrifying goosebumps pricking her overall epidermis, whereas her ivory enamel managed to tighten in grit in disgust, squinting up her hazelish-brown irises on his lower lip's inescapably visible scar, embodying a horrendous memory from his past. "It's far from real yar brother to be such a sadist."

"I'm not even finished, but he isn't just a sadist," In the interim, what the British aristocrat could notice presentably, studiously in a transfixed scrutiny into her hazelish-brown jewels, glinting sheer loathing and apprehension for James's deeds, imprinted as tracks on his very being, wryly rueful chuckle dripped from his mouth, meekly bobbing his head. "He is a shame to the family and I don't have any clue why I'm still loving a Satanist, who is capable of almost murdering his brother just because of their feuding religion status. Moveover, he told me once I didn't matter that much to him."

"Even if ya don't share the same beliefs, at least, he hasn't got the right to belittle ya!"

"That was the whole point, however, he didn't want even to keep in touch with me ever again after I joined the church and emigrated there."

"How woeful!" In the meantime, the blonde stifled another frustrated moan with far from obscene timbres, composing her rhetorical utterance and her wet tongue spiralling to moisten in swift motion her upper and lower lips promptly. "If I had such a brother like yars, I'd have kicked him out of my life. I'd never allow such humiliation from his side."

"Aren't you feeling luckier perhaps?"

"It depends." A weak, arcane smirk lounged lazily effortless upon her mouth, ushering her femininely creamy, miniature hands squeeze firmer the grip and flush embellishing her delicately pale neck. "In first place, I'm an only child."

"Good for you!" Surrealistic disappointment rusted her husky gasp under her breath when the betraying coldness frostily, generously lingered on her hands shortly after the aspiring Monsignor managed to release the grasp and returning her a sympathetically altruistic, misty smile decorating his young-looking face. "I shall go as I need to visit one more place according to my schedule right in seven o'clock tonight. See you later, Sister!"

"See ya later, Monsignor!" The smirk softened and pented in an emotionless frown while the radiantly bright sanguine blush cooled its own unendurable heat, bestowing higher body temperature, thus wrestling invincibly with the common chilly climate. Once Timothy fled the office and shutting the office door, Jude ventured to amble up to her hardwood desk as her classily midnight black, elegant chunks thudded monotonously against the concetre.

A mere, unwelcoming hush suffocated the austere office of the Bostonian abruptly blurred her epidermis until the office door swung ajar opened with meager gap to be penetrable for pair of irises, catching her off guard in no time as soon as her elvish hand glided stilling along the wooden material, grazing gingerly her digits and gritting fearfully her teeth, too reluctant to reproduce further, provocative noise.

"What the fresh hell is th-" When the oakwood office door swung even wider askew opened and her disinclination to focus on her further current tasks such as seating on the desk for example, turning to scan in jaded eyeing the skeptically askew opened door, wondering yet who was pranking her on Halloween's early evening and bestowing her unending pressurable awkwardness and instantly, magically blanching with unhealthy pale pigment her facial skin in awfully disorientation. The sole thought that railed her mind was that one of the lunatics might be subtly, vilely mocking her and planning his revenge on the head nun after his monstrous courage bubbled through his veins for the crudely inhumane punishments that were reckoned in canes lashing their bare rears and mapping their delicate, pallid fleshes with ugly welts and plum bruises.

The frequency in the door's swaying forward and backward faintly, bearing a semblance of a hammock's weak dance under the summer's saturating, sweltering sun with its gently waltzing summer breeze, were far from explainable exemplar of tricksterness.

"Boo!" All of a sudden, the former police officer registered pushing the door and seeting a foot in the austere office as his sufficiently tall, stocky frame was propping on the wooden door frame after shutting behind him the door, cooing the scanty vowels and syllables.

An intensifying hush paralyzed the both middle-aged adults as the nun ghosted a trembling miniature, milky hand over her chest gingerly, slowly but surely, opting to recollect the common heart rhythm which was far from accomplished, subsequently jamming shut her eyelids and the only noise that was foregoing to vanish in the thin air was the steadily potent drums in her ribcage, faintly bowing her head docilely, gritting firmly, perpetually her ivory teeth.

In the interim, a complacently jubilant, childish smile seeded past his facial attributes with an ease and woeful mortification slightly stabbed his chest at the vista of almost giving a fatal heart attack to his friend. Even though Frank had his own childish side and manifested it in front of his inner circle deservedly only, anyway he's somewhat fan of Halloween as an autumn holiday and he's visibly excited, although his recent occupation in being in charge of mental hospital's security in the nocturnal's episode.

"Frank, ya aren't supposed to scare people with heart problems!" Meantime, her honey brown cabochons snapped opened and grimacing her parchment, elderly youthful complexion after canting her head to not demonstrate hints of her true insecurity in front of her friend, stilling the eerie flat line, misting the medley of expressions and her long, slim fingers danced on her chest, vehement heart pulsations throbbing clung to her fingertips.

"Cheer up, Jude! It's Halloween."

"I'm not even considering Halloween as a holiday, according to my conscious calendar."

"Whatever! I'm just quite excited for it, although ya know in what position I'm actually." After the hoarseness in the middle-aged man's snicker faded away, the homesickeness panged his facial attributes in no time at his melancholically nostalgic recollected memories from a few decades ago even years ago when his life hasn't turned downward immediately yet and Halloween was almost like an orthodox tradition to be celebrated and scarcely underestimated annually with nobody else than his fewest friends and deceased wife Claire. The naked constrast between Frank and Judy's philosophical worldviews on the western holiday controversially illustrated in what humor they're eventually.

"I know yar a widower for which I'm still sorry, but ya can always count on me if there's something bothering ya, Frank!" In the interval, the former sleazy nightclub singer managed to stroll up to the widower, tugging a sympathetically compassionate, innocent smile at the corners of her mouth, scintillatingly eyeing him with her vibrant, warm smoky quartz embers, blazing ablaze benevolence, innocence and warmness. An extraordinarily authentic sanctum of maternal, feminine consolation, warmness and goodwill, caging inside her gaze even when her low-spirits were welling in her temple of her very being. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"No! Why, tho?" Meantime, the Bostonian managed to shake her head, consequently curving her lips in a purse.

"I was thinking we can fool around on Halloween like bringing those homesickening childhood memories and," Once the former cop was maintaining an appropriately intimate proximity with the blonde, optimistically demonstrating his monstrously genius idea for tonight to refill with bonus their hectic daily schedules, thus his warm, cinnamon coffee-stained breath gently brushed with a slapping fan his friend's motionlessly headstrong gilded curls, framing her round, full profile in tandem. "And disguise ourselves as something else than just wearing these boring ass outfits, ya know!" Uneasily raspy snicker echoed in an arc, deposited in their space they provided each other. "What do ya think, bosslady?"

"I'm thinking it would be a decent idea, but aren't ya deeming it as a woeful risk for our careers?"

"Nah! Don't worry! We'll be just for awhile out of this nuthouse and just have our own lives for once in while." Suddenly the widower registered a draping muscular, masculinely strong arm to brace her middle adequately, subsequently guiding her on their way out of the sternly atmospheric office promptly and their footsteps ghosting the abysmal corridor's cemented flooring with docile motions. "Feel the real life's spirits and vibrant aura instead of keep punishing yarself with excessive work, Jude! We good?"

"Sure! W-Why not?" Her tongue elaborated the vowels and syllables which were gradually constructing the series of stammers, tugging her vocal stings lazily and what it beyond mesmerized the widower was that his boss finally agreed to participate in their brief break from their actual responsibilities in the notorious facility and dedicate themselves to the modicum of fun they're seldom graced with after a tough, long day.

"It surprises me ya agreed and I convinced ya somehow to not set yourself such high standarts." Smugly mirth grained steadily Frank's facial features, glancing at the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer's redden-flushed-clad masked complexion as a bashfully coy smile spread across her naturally mauve, plumpish lips. The heart rate perkily, energetically increased and affecting the unusual heart rhythm of the nun as the both adults paced ideally embarrassing in the hall until they retired to the security's lockroom.

"If you're still wondering what I'm going to be for Halloween, I don't have anything else than to be the old mean nun." Her lips parted in the somber scoff, dripping from her mouth as a punchline of the joke while Frank was chanting in a lull alleviating shush, muting her protests and further antagonistic sounds, pointlessly piercing the background.

"Shh, shh, shh, Judy! Yar not an old mean nun." What it arcanely flabbergasted the blonde and flinching her was when they halted in stop in the middle of the abysmal, dim light corridor and the bright yellow light bulb illuminating with artificially saturating light her magnetically beautiful face at the middle-aged gentleman's sight, clawing with his solely free colossal, veiny hand her dainty, delicate shoulder and soothingly warmness battering the rigid fabric. His lapis lazuli minerals were fixated on her smoky quartz, spearing with radiance and serenity. "I know you quite well to object those asshat inner voices, torturing ya otherwise." A deep breath jointed her brittle lungs, her fingers yet fidgeting and quivering while stilling her gaze with his. "Tonight yar going to be dressed to kill as bright as a button's Marilyn Monroe."

"W-Wh-" Even though Jude was beyond dumbfounded and nonplussed by the former policeman's kindhearted utterance and pure honesty even altruistic sacrifice to grace her Halloween with a brilliantly great experience, stutter sailed out of her tongue tip sluggishly.

"I remember so far on almost every Halloween Claire was prominently dolled up Marilyn Monroe, because of her strong admiration towards her beauty, intelligence, charisma and talent. No wonder I brought them into my backpack earlier today when I looked into the calendar and I was like," Promisingly serene smile decorated the blonde's facial features, whereas the middle-aged gentleman teasingly, gingerly kneaded her shoulder blade, admiring her femininity and one of a kind character he's always a keen fan of since the beginning, lowly humming under his breath. "Since it's Halloween and my bosslady doesn't even consider it a holiday, she might love being Marilyn Monroe or anything representing the femininity tonight." At the moment, the widower manipulated his vocal stings to gear up mimicking of his northern lilt, highlighting his utterance momentarily, thus the Bostonian bashfully bit her upper lip, wickedly clicking a chuckle and sharing it with her friend in unison.

"Aww, that's so kind of ya, Frank! But I'm not even an icon to represent such a glamorously gorgeous woman like her."

"Don't be fearful, dear! Yar unearthly pretty even without the extra make-up and glitter adorning your clothes. C'mon! Let's slay tonight!"

\- _A Half an Hour Later or So_ -

When Frank surreptitiously unzipped his backpack to retrieve Marilyn Monroe's glamorously oyster-white sleeveless dress paired with the classily presentable oyster-white strapped stilettos and loaning them to Judy, subsequently they got back to her austere office as Frank was anticipating patiently in her office, while her presence occupied her en-suite bedroom and persistently primping herself.

As soon as her conservatively dark wool wimple was uncoiffing and securing her wild lion mane of lavish old Hollywood aureate curls and the tiresome rigidly shapeless dark habit peeled off of her skin like shed snake skin, her common work uniform was ruthlessly careless dumped on her compact bed.

In the meanwhile, the sister of the church has dolled up herself with the bewitching lily-white sleeveless dress with V neckline, partly exposing her alabasterly enticing cleavage, paired with the lily white strapped stilettos, shoing her petite feet. Shortly after her Halloween costume was tattooed on her petite-frame and brushing the tresses to refine their smartness and elegance, subsequently the middle-aged lady seated on the edge of her bed to retrieve her memorable pocket mirror and Ravish Me Red lipstick, in order to add a bonus and fashion the outfit in the exact form. When her spidery marbled fingers danced around the lipstick and revolved the make-up instrument, thereafter the bloody red miniature brush soared and glimmered with its brightest, most welcoming red shade that once painted exquisitely her lower and upper cherub lip, incarnading the naturally roseate pigment. Further, the former licentious nightclub singer didn't know what her bewitching charisma coupled with Ravish Me Red lipstick would be capable of except being every man's Achilles' Heel and eyecandy.

When her humble make-up that was consisted solely in painting her cherub lips, thereafter the sister of the church retrieved from her jet black purse her perfume to sprinkle with its alluringly breathtaking fragrance her neck, wrists and long mop of celestially golden curls. Double checking her looks in the pocket mirror self-consciously, demurely sealed her vortex of thoughts with sheer insecurity how she may look and regardless how many times her hazelish-brown round, big embers were darted to the manipulated mirrored reflection of her own, something urged the Bostonian her looks were far from creamily flawless and questioning the others' opinions by judging their facial expressions.

The humdrum click in choir of her stilettos ghostwrited the cemented floor restlessly and her petite, quivering hand due to the relentless late-October chilly climate contaminated with electrifying goosebumps to sting her overall epidermis due to the lacking warmer, thicker garments, suitable for such weather to guard every weight and tissue of her very being.

In the meanwhile, the widower's eyelids snapped opened and darted eagerly agitated to the en-suite bedroom's shut door until it swung widely opened at the vista of his boss's altered outfit which was far from the orthodox, obnuliating her delicate, pale flesh, due to the fact the devotional members of the church were forbidden even the cosmetics' usage was absolutely futile. It was Frank's very first time contemplating the illuminated side of his boss and most of all, formulating his own consperative thoughts and dwelling into his brassly reverie realm, wondering yet what Jude looked like out of her habit.

A delicately sheepish, sympathetic smile curled upon her bloody red lips and earning his lewdly astounded stare, fixed on her and admiring her ethereal grace. She looked gorgeous!

"How I look, Frank?" Her posed question begged for immediate approval while propping mildly seductive, leisurely on the door frame and her leanly alabaster arms were beautifully glinting with its sheer, silken glossiness past the security guard's pools of deep azure, imbibing her timeless beauty.

"Looking good and fine as wine, Judy!" Incredulity contoured roughly the holy woman's facial attributes in no time, whereas her employee shot a mischievously amiable wink at her, scintillatingly dazed by her beauty, regardless if she wore a natural beauty or modicum of make-up nonetheless.

"Oh really? I was pretty self-conscious what it would be looking like a Holywood star."

"Don't be! Yar an amaze!"

"Why thank you!" All of a sudden, their facial expressions broke into painfully healthy guffaws, pitching the background, muting the oblivious background noises of desperate patients' bewails permeating in the profoundly long hallway.

Just shortly after the former licentious jazz nightclub singer surreptitiously ventured to flee the grandiose façade of the notorious asylum in the company of her old friend Frank, who hasn't changed his outfit yet, the both adults were embraced by the early evening's fatherly-soft, itchy autumn breeze, playfully playing and fanning their exposed creamy, palish fleshes and prickling with electrifying goosebumps their delicate epidermis.

Thick mantle of darkness was casted in inexorably irreparable layers of shadows, obscuring any light caressing gently their facial attributes, softened in nonchalance and sheer childlike ecstasy to celebrate Halloween even though it was deemed for the younger generation and its keen enthusiasts Western holiday.

Even though the dryness and the lacking moisture of rain's absence loomed in the mid-autumn days, exquisitely remarked with its outstanding hints, it was never too late for the rain to chant its own ballad and dance in tandem waltz, beading everything below. Starless early night as usually and obscuring the magnificently amorous vista of stars with the morbidly obese mantle of agelessly hoary clouds, hovering smoothly was the dream Halloween nocturnal episode for Judy and Frank.

Even though the middle-aged gentleman's small flat was a half an hour apart from the nefarious mental institution, the duo rather preferred to exercise and pressure their muscles even motioning their legs up to his home, in order to change himself from the security guard into something he covet to, although his lacking separate financial budget to be invested on abstractly fashionable Halloween costumes, thus embracing with open arms the eerily dingy spirits of the holiday. Furthermore, the security guard had separate attires, sufficiently suitable to pair and formulate an efficiently innovative Halloween costume and strongly relying on his imaginative creativity, welling up an opulent glossy fountain of ideas that were submerging his hurricane of thoughts.

The incessant humdrum choir of drums against the stone massive of Briarciff was gracefully stomped by the both adults, arriving outdoors at last.

"It's damn unbelievable ya gave me your deceased wife's Halloween costume to be Marilyn Monroe." All of a sudden the Bostonian's tongue elaborated her northern lilt, accenting her utterance while her perky silken gilded tresses bounced with each motion, retiring from the grandiose territory that was situating the old, dilapidating madhouse. Sheer incredulity coated thickly her porcelain, glossy face while folding her arms to stabilize the moderation of her body temperature, seething with chilliness and contaminated with trembling her body muscles even when her comfy pantaletot hugged her frail skeleton and the streetlamps lovely, gleamingly sheening their figures that were pacing nonchalantly in the wee hours of the evening. "It's obscene to give somebody paraphernalia that once belonged to a deceased person."

"Not at all! But do ya know what else, Judy?"

"What?"

"You can finally own this costume for the next Halloweens, ya know!"

"Ya have to be kidding me." Nonchalant, raspy giggle cracked her throat, scarcely controlling the decibels of her giggle and squinting up trustlessly, teasingly at the middle-aged man with her piercing smoky quartz jewels, blazing the warmest, the most vibrant and kindhearted hazelish-brown which Frank has ever beheld. "It's like mockery with the ghosts of the dead." Meantime, the former police officer managed to slam his front ivory, firm teeth to scrap gently, sluggishly his lower chapped lip, asphyxiating foreign grunts and gasps.

"Is that some kind of criticism, Miss Judy Monroe?" Suddenly the former licentious nightclub singer ushered her vocal stings to clear gruffily, dryly her throat with a begrudging cough, zinging her mouth, in order to bulk his attention, directly shifted to her after Frank mimicked her friendly nickname.

"It's just my word, Frank! Ya have been always kind and sweet to me that I truly appreciate it, howsoever, I just can't accept your gift at all." The embarrassing uncomfort, veiling bountifully her femininely graceful, soft facial features with blush touching her well-curved cheeks, abidingly powdering sanguinely her facial skin. Even more Frank genuinely detected the signs of the Bostonian's discomfort and reluctance to accept the kindhearted present for her, ducking faintly, shyly her head and avoiding any eye contact with him even if it's a mere glance for a split second. "It's slightly embarrassing accepting somebody's paraphernalia which once belonged to her," Stilling her ducked head, eyeing glassily her path that luxuriously adorned with an opulent carpet of multicoloured crispy leaves which were sempiternally stomped by twain of shoed footsteps, ghosting the phenomenal autumn's prospect with its exquisite medley of brushes painting in variety of nuances the nocturnal Halloween night. "But now she's gone. She is no longer there and she wouldn't approve even in her afterlife somebody like me to take something that once belonged to her."

"I'm completely sure since yar a dear friend of mine and I can really count on you, she doesn't hate you. At all!"

\- _Forty Five Minutes or So Later_ -

When the both middle-aged adults fled the ill-famed mental institution's territory and Frank gave up to go back at his flat, in fact, he's far from motivated to disguise himself as anything else and he rather preferred to be himself, articulating himself as his own Halloween costume which saved them plenty of time and their imminent destination was one of the central cemetery of the small city of Massachusetts.

Although at first Judy wasn't quite in condition to pay a visit to the cemetery unless there's a peculiar reason such as commemorating her humongous, doubtless respect to any former mortal's grave which she knew personally sufficiently well or on the contrary has played minor role in her life, anyway the Bostonian didn't reject her friend's offer to venture in the graveyard.

Once Frank managed to reach for the tall Victorian style, superbly polished gates, thereafter he grappled one of the wing and steadily, gentlemanly holding it for the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer who was still folding her arms to stabilize her body temperature and absorb the natural, accumulated warmness battered to her fragile skeleton.

"Thanks, Frank!" When the pious sister of the church ventured in the graveyard, accompanied by the middle-aged gentleman, the gate's wing was gingerly shut without an ado.

"Always for ya, Judy!"

"Where we shall go?" At the moment, the empty prospect of no living mortal lurking in the nocturnal's daily episode in the cemetery was icily panging with sharply brass loneliness the both asylum's staff members even though the only thing they could do was keeping attached to each other and scarcely daring to separate themselves in different directions. The nocturnal illustration of sea of miniature and grandiose dully grayish gravestones even meager trees adorning the somber atmosphere with a midnight black raven perched on the partly naked tree's branch, glimpsing at the uninvited guests of the boneyard with unwelcoming grimace as if intruders just broke into his territory unblemishly blatant.

The flawlessly starless night with a full pallish, round moon hovering upward in the sky gleamed alstruistically munificently its own moonlight to caress sweetly, delightfully the nun and the security guard's parchment complexions.

"Where the wind leads!" All of a sudden, the widower registered drapping a strong, muscly arm, bracing her waist to draw her in an intimate proximity which they barely shared exactly and ambling up squarely onward until the disturbing symphony of series of raven's croaks pitched the lethally silent boneyard, coldheartedly, squarely embracing Frank and Jude. "C'mon! Let's take a look around." Meanwhile, the former cop's emphatic reprimand punctured the beginning of their real Halloween journey, overlooking crudely the series of raven's guttural, shrill croaks, permeating in the background as background sound.

"It's blasphemic paying a visit to the cemetery unless either of yar inner circle is buried there." Her Ravish Me Red fully painted lips twisted in a peculiarly perplexed frown, permeating across her delicate jaw while glancing at every corner of the empty site, stilling the acknowledge of scarce presence encompassing them.

"I know so far that there were riot teenagers that broke into the cemetery like years ago on Halloween instead of going trick or treating in the nearby neighbourhood."

"Tell me more!" The sheer haphazardity of the blonde's childlike inquisitiveness prickled her thoughts and facial attributes when her employee commenced leaking a story about the rebellious teenagers visiting the boneyard on Halloween instead of orthodoxly collecting abundance of candies like almost every child would do whether in the company of their parent or a good friend. "Where the hell did ya know about this Halloween story?"

"It's not just a Halloween story, Jude! It's a Halloween horror story." Shortly after retreating to the center of the memorial park, passing galore of tombstones of newborn up to seniors which were former mortals and contemporarily no longer inhabiting the crudely cold, enormous world, the former policeman heaved a sigh and lingering his muscly arm around the blonde's middle, hardly intetioning to disappointingly dump it. "And I remember so far that I had a friend of mine was collectioning such book with true horror stories either taking its place on Christmas, Halloween, Easter or whatever the fuck day is."

"Ya have to be kindly lucky!"

"Yeah, because the friends are for that! So let's keep going with that Halloween horror story! Prepare for chills and no nun shit, okay?" In the interval, the Bostonian manipulated her head in docile, humble nod in solemn agreement, zipping her bright red mouth in a purse and being all ears. "Good!" Managing to joint his tongue with a dry cough and clearing his throat seconds before emphatically continuing his monologue. "Those riot teenagers were nothing than trouble and they were six in their group. It's a very late Halloween night and it was presumable the majority of the kids were in their own homes whether having dinner or doing their own homework or just minding their own business. By lying to their parents they're up to trick or treating in the outskirts of the neighbourhood, their adrenaline to rush into the boneyard was a goddamn mistake. They're in huge trouble!" The same autumn featherly soft, light breeze was mischievously fanning and waltzing their attires and exposed skins, while the holy woman attempted to not quiver, in fact, even the stockings with garters were hypodermically heating her leanly long, drop dead gorgeous legs as their last hope to resist the mid-seasonal climate. "They knew it but they preferred to ignore it and just to play the daredevil game. Within their venture into the boneyard and being encompassed by hundreds of tombstones in the middle of the night, the first two kids were equipped with plain flashlights, gleaming specificially while the third kid was counting on his pal to secure her, because she potently believed the deads' hands could grip her if she stepped beside one of the tombstones and they could drag her to their buried alive bodies."

"Mhm!" An excited bob of her head in her attentively enganged in hankering the widower's horror story, conjugating the mumble in approval and strongly looking forward for the sequel, she manifested eyeing meekly his charmingly appealing with sufficiently heavy wrinkles, uncommonly indicating his charisma and beauty yet.

"While the last two fellas weren't fearfull at all and they were just keep warming their fearful pal to stop trembling as if she's seen a corpse. Once they were ambling up to one of the gravestones just of their childish curiosity to study the plaque," As soon as their maintained proximity was less than an inch, calculated in their intimate space they swapped with one another, the middle-aged man's strawberry-coloured, silkily soft lips brushed gently her earlobe. "A sound emanating from the soil caught them off guard and skeletan hands gripped the young girl's ankles, trying to drag her to the buried alive corpse even when the power of this skeleton was unnaturally strong. The only thing she could do was screaming for help and her friends' attempts to save her were almost a total failure." The velvety highlight, puncturing the middle-aged gentleman's whisper touching her petite, sensitive ear sent shivers down her spine, the monotonous drum of their footsteps stomping the lavish carpet of multicoloured leaves tingled dull tunes and the scent of soil, watered soil, faded flowers and freshly planted flowers onto the soil wafted momentarily past their noses. "When the young lady was struggling to stomp the skeletal's wrist, the grasp was far from loosen. Her knees were brushing the soil and her body fell onto the skeleton, digged in a deep fucking shitty hole which was approximately deep a couple of meters. Once her back flumped heavily backward and hit the underground hole, her body was paralyzed after breaking her back and it was terribly painful." When the monologue was ongoing unremittingly, the middle-aged lady's pools of caramel brown were darted to a shaggly-fabric-clad sack of cluster of painfully delicious candies as an abstract temptation when the security guard followed the devotional woman of the cloth's gaze on the sack of candies and sweets, moistening his pair of plump, baby pinkish lips with controlling the apex's spiral of his wet tongue, lightly salivating with its sticky drip his chin at the sinfully tempting sight of cul-de-sac's overloading sweets and candies, in fact, his childish addiction to such temptations, which were deemed as sin according to the halloweed's codex were inevitably undeniable in Frank's case.

The suddenness of the lethal hush which muted even the former cop's vowels and syllables, gradually dying on his tongue after constructing the impending utterance, the distraction of the sweets and candies attracted the member of the church's attention in no time, shooting him a skeptical piercing gawk, honing with each advancing second of their journey and noting the scintillating glitter of sheer merriness into his azure blue jewels which slightly bewilderingly vexed her for dodging to maintain an appropriate eye contact even when they were swapping utterances per a couple of seconds.

"Why on earth ya suddenly shutted up?" In the interim, the Bostonian maneuvered her pools of caramel brown to roll dramatically coldblooded, huffing frustratedly due to her employee's unpredictable doldrum, zipping his mouth abruptly when he glanced perkily at her, earning her sternity honing gawk as if it gouged off his eyes with a masterful ease.

"The candies and sweets!" Then with her solely free petite, creamily pearly-white hand managed to smack a slap across her temple in disbelief how one of the most loyal, trustworthy friends of hers was conveying himself to one of the sinfullest temptations. Briefly savoring or at least ogling enamored at the sweets and candies which Jude deemed them as sin and most of all, warily warned her protégé about them.

"For goddamn sake, Frank," An abrupt mellow gasp trundled her throat when her friend guided her to the sack of rich diversity of Halloween miniature desserts as soon as the duo weren't even distancing themselves from the security guard's Achilles' Heel. Furthermore, what it mildly vexed the sister of the church was that her employee was beyond distracted and succumbed by the desserts and hunkering up past the satchel, his knees brushing lazily the meager crispy leaves' rug that formed a circle and one of his hands stilling protectively his boss's waist curled, whereas his other hand was shoved into the expanse and vehemently trying to retrieve a couple of candies with different flavours to savour their molting scrumptiousness. "The sweets are leading to sin."

"Didn't I tell ya no nun and the security guard shit when we're just celebrating Halloween?" Seconds before unpacking clumsily with his nimble, meaty fingers one of the exquisitely enveloped candies, whereas horde of packed sweets and candies were perched motionlessly on his lap, scarcely daring to glimpse at his boss and his utter attention was shifted to his eye candy, Judy's lungs unfettered fresh, burdening oxygen. "Jusy for awhile, if ya excuse me?"

"I know, but yar such a turdsandwich!" When the middle-aged woman verged to stumble and flump onto the sack of free desserts for every cemetery visitor and futile grunts vibrated her throat, fortunately, the widower poised her, bracing her back yet.

"Then go attack along with me the candies and sweets."

"Okay, okay, okay!" Ministrations of approval warmed Frank's pit and tossing carelessly the envelope of the white chocolate candy which was inserted in the corners of his mouth and his ivory, firm teeth megawattly grinding blatantly the white chocolate until it laced its melted flavor on his tongue and enamel. "I'll just take one and I'm pretty surprised on Halloween the cemetery visitors can have a free candy."

"Don't be surprised!" The blatantly smug slurp pitched the former sleazy nightclub singer's ears and fidgeting her maneuvred hand lingered on fistful of enveloped candies with rum and dark chocolate savor, consequently snatching them uncurled from their own envelopes and barely keeping her vow just to savor only one for tonight, munching them in unison until mild intoxication misted her vision and muscles, tensing them with sedation. "I didn't know yar lying to yourself, Judy! You took more than just one candy." Sharp emphasis punctured the widower's stark irony, curving his chapped lips while moving on the other desserts which he's retrieved, muffling a yawn due to the relentlessly cool late-October weather with contagious changes in their humors and freshness. "How do they taste? Huh?"

"Damn good!" All of a sudden, she shifted her attention to him, exchanging a glowing, resurrected stare while the tipsiness was glimmering into her hazelish-brown minerals, yet suckling her lower lip cautiously, in order to not smear the Ravish Me Red lipstick.

"Are ya some kind of tipsy?"

"Some candies have specific taste."

"Better not let Tim see!" Meantime, the middle-aged gentleman registered leaning and mumbling a honeyed whisper into Judy's ear, consequently a half-hearted, blissful snicker grinded his mouth.

\- _Two Hours Later or So_ -

After almost emptying the luxurious sack of sweets and candies which certain deposited either vague or strong liquor into them as savor, subsequently the duo retreated back to the mental hospital in embarrassing lurch, earning series of arcanely bewildered eyes, transfixed on them. The majority of the strangers could peculiarly estimate the sight of Frank guiding his boss back to their workplace sluggishly, awkwardly as if one-night stand lover was accompanying his hired prostitute either to her home or rather his.

Even if they didn't have any idea what time it was, throughout the presumable current time was calculated approximately almost nine o'clock, gauged by the pitch-black starless sky.

"C'mon, Judy!" Masculinely husky grunt rolled out of Frank's tongue tip after persistently dragging the blonde upstairs to tower the stone massive of the ill-famed facility, aiding her to step even timidly begrudging on one of the stairs, each footstep whispering against the massive and pitching a background noise. "You can do it." Lingering his secure, muscular arm snaked around her middle encouragingly, they towered together the stairs even when his northern lilt honed up his emboldening caution.

Within a couple of minutes of sluggishly escalating the massive and the double front door security guards opening presentably the door for the both staff members and venturing their way inside the madhouse's lobby and a couple of orderlies were struggling to drag rebellious patients back to their wing's wards which were reckoned as their small, poorly furnished bedrooms. The inexorable reek of urine, poor hygiene, heavy medicaments, vomit and freshly baked breads emanating from the bakery quickly wafted upon their flexible noses under their intoxicated gazes, mildly wobbly with mist thickly coating them.

Presumably either the orderlies were recalctritantly dragging the inmates to their wards for extra good night sleep after shutting down the common room until the next morning or on the contrary, they had escaped their own cells and getting themselves into trouble.

In the progressing hours of the night episode, there were almost no staff members that were freely roaming like disoriented spectrals in the lobby or anywhere else behind the dull, lifeless walls of the infamous mental hospital. Moreover, the security guards which were in charge of night shift and occupying with their own presences each outskirt of the wings' abysmal hallways. It was indeed inescapable circumstance.

Series of breathy, despondent wails slipped from the writhing patients and meanwhile, composing an elegiac soundtrack, feating the sanitarians' swears, grunts and stern cautions.

"My goodness! What the fresh hell is-" When it was high time the Bostonian's turn to elaborate anything even when her inner voices of tipsiness were incessantly challenging her and brassly tormenting her with irrational decisions, suddenly Frank momentarily guided her without hesitancy up to her office.

"I can't leave ya drunk as a skunk all alone at all. I'll make sure to take care of ya." Their notoriously docilely footsteps ghosted the cemented flooring and pacing at awkward pace through the abysmal brightly lit corridor, illuminating partly their figures. As soon as they reached the austere, unwelcoming office, the pious woman of the cloth fumbled clumsily, quiveringly her purse's zip to rummage it for the rusty, old key for her office until something rustier, solider grazed her digits and subsequently yanking them in a swift motion promptly and dumping her midnight black purse unzipped, due to the searing adrenaline, pulsating into their bodies and the liquor in the blood, emanating from the free Halloween sweets and candies. "Do you want me to help you with the key?"

"Nah, I'll be fine!" The soundtrack of slurs jingled alarming tones of Frank and Jude when he attempted to snatch the key headstrongly from her grasp, in order to help her to unlock efficiently the locked oakwood office door immediately. In the meanwhile, the former licentious nightclub singer mistily glanced at the both directions of the eerily empty, long hall, acknowledging the vacancy which wasn't even occupied by a single presence, hideously disturbing and embarrassing them.

"I don't believe you! Let me unlock the office for ya." As soon as in a single click the oakwood office door was unlocked and swung freely opened at the pitch-black mantle, timelessly shrouding the sufficiently expansive workplace of the head nun of Briarcliff, a smugly mischievous smirk planted upon the security guard's baby-pinkish, plump lips and dumping askew opened the door, whereas he dashed, stilling his snaked arm around her middle as he guided her to her en-suite bedroom and moping with his only free hand her wimple and habit, throughout dropping her on her compact bed to rest and shutting behind him the en-suite bedroom door.

"Frank, it's unnecessary! Yar tipsy too." In the interim, the blonde fashioned her frail hands into balled fists and maneuvering to rub her groggy orbs pensively, slurring him a reprimand in low voice and thereafter flipping on one side to prop her weight, squinting up at the widower's figure in the corner of her eye, far from motivated to study in a scrutiny his manners and forthcoming intentions.

"Shu, shu, shu, Jude! You deserve to rest even if I'm also slightly tipsy and those candies and sweets took a toll on me." All of a sudden, the former policeman manifested to maintain a platonically intimate distance with his boss, hunkering up past the bed and locking up her stare with his, softing his smirk into a benevolently serene smile, suffusing across his mouth gently, elegantly. "I'm with ya, you know!"

"I'm sure God overlooks me as his own serving angel." Even when Jude was somewhat content with having an outstandingly great time on Halloween with nobody else than the former policeman, somehow an unholy somber halo invisibly circled her inner voices to spellbind God's harsh words slitting her conscience and the vows, in fact, she's always vowed the sweets were leading to sin and God wouldn't be astoundingly pleased with the religious woman of the cloth's broken vow.

"No, that's not true, Jude! I'm sure that stays between us and God with our overeating of sweets and candies on Halloween," Pause wrenched Frank's utterance, managing to lift up his colossal, amusingly warm hand to her cheek, cupping it affectionately as her cherub, bloody red lips undulated in a seductively soft O, shifting her attention to him instantly and sheer tenderness and warmness glimmered in her sanctums of caramel brown. What the Bostonian could do was tenderly molting into Frank's gentleman altruism and affection, welling into his gestures and velvety words like sweet nothings, chanted deeply. "Okay?" Judy managed a bob in solemn agreement, weakly beaming at him. "You shouldn't regret what we're being through today and what we actually celebrated, Miss Judy Monroe!"

"I know, Frank! I genuinely appreciate yar kindness. Always!" What it was oblivious for the duo was the masculinely familiar dull footsteps of the priest, muttering in the austere office of the head nun of the mental institution.

"I'm honore-" When the middle-aged gentleman ushered his chapped, berry-coloured lips to press a peck on her cheek, suddenly the infamous creak of the linked bedroom's door subtly whispered, startling the both staff members as the Bostonian stung widened her hazelish-brown gemstones at the tall figure of the ambitious Monsignor, balmy blush tickling her cheeks in naive embarrassment. Perky pinkness tinging her delicate, palish well-sculptured cheeks, murmurs almost dying on her tongue. "Anything wro-"

"The Monsignor!"

"Oh wow!" A heavy sigh flushed Timothy's nose, rolling his eyes, attempting to dedicate his sin to the platonically guiltless vista of the duo, sharing a platonic cheek kiss which was far from heinous even sorting his mind, whereas Frank broke off the cheek kiss and shot a doubtful, indifferent gawk at the younger man, trying his best to be as cool as cucumber. "Where you both have been? Care to explain?" Under the nonchalantly strict stare of Timothy, the nun and the security guard sensed how small, vulnerable and weak they're compared to the aspiring Monsignor, estimating their tiers in the society and their positions which they were professionally serious taking in the facility. Their hearts skipped a beat.

"Urm, Father," Although the both gentlemen shared an antagonistic relationship with each other, the older man struggled with the explaination in stutter, vowels and syllables clashing to be formulated in a rational response, begged from the British aristocrat's enquiry, barely moving a single muscle. "I didn't know yar going to be earlier back in Briarcliff while I and Jude decided to take a short break from our duties."

"Taking a short break in going on that unholy holiday to get drunk, right?"

"Not exactly!" The heavy-laden exhale's sharpness fastened the older lady's lungs, noticing the naked distraction in the corner of her eye as the British aristocrat's Achilles Heel for almost every man. Her wildly unruly long mop of golden hair ruffled on the pillow, thus fashioning a sacred angelically divine halo, framing her round, full profile. His smoky quartz jewels flamed invicinble lust, desire, love and warmness, succumbed by the prospect of his rare bird's ethereal beauty and the little green-eyed monster ungratefully texturing his parchment face, due to the fact, Jude wasn't all alone at all and Frank had apparent romantic intentions of her. "I didn't want to leave Frank all alone and he is a dear friend of mine."

"Did you give both of yourselves to the temptations?"

"Just sweets and candies!" The middle-aged gentleman straightened his posture, cracking series of irrationally blatant sniggers, chanting alarming tones into the both members of the church's ears.

"That means I smell the punishment and who's repenting for it." In the meanwhile, the British compatriot tugged a small, complacent grin at the corners of his mouth, folding his strong, masculinely muscly arms, dithering his gaze between Jude and Frank, whilst the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer ushered her strawberry-coloured, wet tongue to gingerly moisten her upper and lower lip without obnoxiously, uglily smearing off her lipstick and tinting with its sanguine pigment her chin. "Who wants to take the punishment between both of you?" Suddenly the widower manifested raising his hand into the thin air, indicating his vote to save Jude's skin from the crude punishment which was promisingly comprising a handful of lashes at least. "Seriously?"

"I'm taking a bullet for the bosslady."

"Think twice! Choose wisely!" Meanwhile, the British compatriot couldn't refrain a healthily half-hearted, boyish chuckle during the pause, subsequently ushering his foe to join him as his own assistant without asking him even once for his approval. "Come on, Frank! You're going to be my assistant." A goofily smug grin cradled the security guard's corners of his mouth, surprisingly quirking a perky thick eyebrow when Timothy offered him to be his assistant during granting the kinky punishment for their favorite sister of the church. At the moment, the blonde flexed her throat muscles to swig the salty lump, bubbling up in her feminine Adam's apple and her heart leaping in pure euphoria, still questioning how Timothy's kinky side has been enigmatically unlocked, due to the fact, he's far from fond of her methods of inhumanely bestowing the punishments for the inmates.

"I'm beyond amused, Father!"

"Just come in! We've an important task." The middle-aged lady lingered her jimmied widened orbs on the both men, plotting their repenting retribution for the devotional holy woman, while absent-mindedly registering to spread her legs leisurely. "Good boy, Frank! We're having an only one who truly deserves the punishment." What it bewilderingly amused Jude and Frank was Timothy has hardly elaborated such almost informal language in front of the older gentleman with exception his rara avis especially when they're dwelling out of the professional realm and tumbling in the depths of their platonic friendship's realm.

"Oh my God! That's a blasphemically kinky, Father!" The Bostonian's recites in murmur the blasphemy ministrated her solely distinctive Boston lilt, spotlighting her stealthness.

"But I promised to take the bullet for her, not assisting ya to punish her just because she tasted sweets."

"Well, that's it, Frank! Bring her to bend on the desk!" At the moment, the older man meekly, modestly gulped a bitter lump, whereas reapproaching his boss to help her to hop up from the bed in the least uncomfortable way and ushering her to flee the en-suite bedroom's site, while the aspiring Monsignor retired to the office and shutting the oakwood office door in no time, obscuring farther uninvited visitors to set a foot in their territory that was their recent occupation.

When the security guard meekly obeyed the ambitious Monsignor as the trio were no longer in the linked bedroom, the lethal silence interrupted by the velvety whispers of Timothy's oxford drums against the concetre floor were monotonous soundtrack, whereas the older gentleman aided Judy to readjust her bending posture.

The hesitance painting superbly the younger man's handsome facial attributes shortly after registering widely opened the double door of the grand armoire with the luxurious collection of canes from the thinnest to the thickest in sizes. His breath hitched when his impure thoughts submerged his rich fantasy and imagination which was encountering the absolute reality. Granting the retribution to his right hand with one of her canes and contemplating her frequence in flinches choiring under his domineering cocoa brown jewels, blazing aflare lust, desire, love and warmness. An obscene medley that was the sins or rather the devil's mastery. Despite his potent dedication to the church and its ecclesiastical duties, he's always covet to grace pleasurably Judy, no matter how inexperienced he appeared to be with the representatives of the opposite sex after joining the church a decade ago but before that only once dating a female.

"Chin up, Judy! He won't hurt ya, I promise!" Then the former police officer circled the hard wood bureau and maintaining proximity with the pious nun, computed in a handful of guiltless inches solely. Peering over her bended head to make sure the man of the cloth was yet choosing wisely which cane would be the ideal for his favorite nun's punishment, he averted his peer from the younger man and subsequently shifted his attention to the Bostonian, offering her a sympathetic smile, tattooed on his marbled face, whilst manipulating his mammoth, veiny hand to stroke her long mop of crispily soft aureate hair, softly raking his fingers' anatomy.

As soon as the man of the cloth has chosen averagely thick cane, in order to not pang his conscience with bestowing his right hand ocean of difficultly recovering plum bruises and wounds mapping her buttocks, meantime, the former cop was stabilizing his grasp on her wrists, bobbing humbly his head.

Once Timothy participated the pairing's company and his colossal, amusingly warm hand lifted up his rare bird's sheer dress hem to expose her buttocks, secured in lace bloody red panties comfortably which was embraced by his smoky quartz gems, consequently a sheepishly coy smirk embroidered his mouth, wearing thousand patterns of desire and lust. Thick veil of blush shamefacedly tinged his well-carved, chubby cheeks and swallowing hard at the sight of his favorite woman of the cloth's sinful prosect, diabolically alluring him.

What it break the blonde's facial expression and catching her off guard was when she sensed the pristinely delicate touch, ghosting her partly naked peachy buttocks', hesitantly to peer over her shoulder though her pure oblivion of Frank, fastening her wrists with his grip.

"Pretty naughty of you, Sister!" In the interval, Frank maneuvered the thumbs of his hands to knead Jude's dainty, brittle knuckles, emboldening her physically and mentally even though it was too real for her. After smacking a featherly soft, weak slap across her rear, whilst his hand stilled the hem without dropping it, afterwards he charged his cane to give a couple of lashes, contacting the bare skin of her rear and the Bostonian flinched and captured her friend's baby-pinkish, lusciously plumpish lips into hers into a hardening, breathy kiss. Series of lashes were subsequently casted on her ass cheeks until Timothy eventually tossed the cane carelessly and leant to inspect the ferocious tracks of the punishment he granted to the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer.

The featherly soft pads of his fingers gingerly, gentlemanly traced the small curves of sanguine welts, mapping her ass cheeks and admiring their peachy shape, throughout surreptitiously, childishly snatching slowly but surely her lace panties and within a couple of seconds of admiring the sliding underwear from her exquisitely curved, leanly long legs, his lewd gaze imbibed like sinful liquor her butt-naked rear with her exposed brassly drenched folds. As soon as the kisses escalated to ferociously aggressive, consequently Judy and Frank's tongues commenced waltzing in breathless tandem until Judy's tongue won domination and emphatically plugged in the widower's mouth, deepening into a French kiss. In the meantime, releasing the grasp and warily peeling off her sleeveless dress's straps slowly and steadily until he was embraced by her firmly round shaped breasts with her peebled due to her horniness tiny naturally mauve nipples after breaking off the kiss for a split second and admiring one another's facial attributes.

"Are ya completely sure ya want all this, Timothy?'

"Yes, I'm sure." There was no ounce of regret even hesitancy in his utterance.

"Yar undeniably gorgeous, bosslady!" A demurely girlish grin parted her lightly smeared bright red lips when the Bostonian sensed her boss was fingering and kneading her swollen bundle of nerves, whereas his pristinely wet tongue was inserted at her entrance and suckling on her sheerly luscious juices, baptizing his tongue tip. She couldn't even stifle the breathless moans and groans with their rapidly increased decibels per a couple of seconds, gripping harshly the edge of the hardwood bureau and the former cop begun his course of peppering with tenderly feather, dainty kisses her pale expanse at first until they escalated to mechanically nipping the sensitive skin of her neck and his salivatingly savage kisses, overally cloaking it.

"Holy fuck! Oh!" The angelic hymns, frequently chanted in effortlessly breathless moans and groans sailed out of her mouth, snapping shut her eyelids and relishing the moment where her favorite boys were pleasuring her and lazily protracting her leanly alabaster arm to contact the former policeman's shirt, consequently unbuttoning clumsily, unsteadily the stubborn buttons. The gearing fingers inserted in and out of the priest were blowmindingly kneading the swollen bundle of nerves, altering in its paces and admiring the juiceness of her juices. "Holy shit! Don't stop!"

And yet the austerely unwelcoming office of the former promiscuous nightclub singer became an insatiable battlefield on Halloween not only for lewd punishments, but also an eloquent ballad of breathy moans, groans and cussings, resonantly chanted.

Author's Final Note: I'd like to apologize for cutting the smutty scene, however, I wanted to leave up to the readers' imagination, depicting with mental images how they imagine the threesome, besides I've already written over 11,500 words! And Happy Late Halloween everybody! I hope you genuinely enjoyed and liked this one-shot! Don't forget to leave your feedbacks if you truly enjoyed it! :))


	30. Patchy Secrets NUNSIGNOR

**Author's note: This one-shot is AU where Jude and Timothy are swapping their genders as Jude is Judah (her male version), while Timothy is Timeena (his female version). Furthermore if you aren't very fond of AU, mentions of violence and gore, don't read this one-shot! This work is a special dedication to everyone that are AU and Nunsignor fans. Anyway I hope you like and enjoy this work! :)) ? ﾟﾒﾞ****?**

_Trigger Warning for __Mentions of Violence, Gore and Strong Language_

Even if the afterlife was the realm of delightfully celestial eternity, suffocating the both former members of the church, on other hand, their promisingly guaranteed safety hasn't been objected.

The heavenly paradise was their new home. Yes. Just for now. Or at least, since their souls have persistently clashed the quests and ordeals along with meager underestimate of the quests' sheerly tremendous importance, saturating them with a remarkable colour to indicate their significance, embodying their success and great deal of potential.

Even though God wasn't very fond of the sinners or on the contrary ironically rewarding them, his purely optimistic forgiveness was the naked, promising key to bountifully bestow every either believer or non-believer anything he would covet in his once mortal realm. The afterlife's ethereally enormous world and its expanse were just miraculous dream for every wretched soul after gladly dwelling out of the mortal's outskirts at peace and joining every formal mortal. Every former mortal with its own story behind its actual demise and brilliantly possible catharsis.

The eternity and ageless immortality formulated galore mass of people in the afterlife city under the name with its extravagantly threadbare sign downtown in Latin prescribed _Caligantem Paulo Messor_. Divided and separated into small groups, populating certain neighbourhoods and households have upgraded the city of Little Grim Reaper and significantly developed the diversity that was depicting with its diversity in richer nuances the prospect of either small or huge houses, either a couple of floored or eternally long flats with cottages and so forth buildings which everybody would find themselves heart-warmingly welcome with its coziness and profoundly comfy inside their property's perkily secure walls.

Sometimes the days appeared to be rainier, relentlessly frostier with its climate's anomaly, but it was perfectly normal as well.

Anyway Timeena and Judah's biggest dream was to have their own children, although Judah's barren fertility to fertilize with his own seed Timeena. God listened eagerly, warily their dream and subsequently bestowed the blond's sterilization to be exceedingly canceled.

Within intensifying their intimate life in the bedsheets and strongly reckoning the creativity in their experiments along with the former pious woman of the cloth's stark patience through her dynamic roller coaster of morning sicknesses, drastic weight gain and mood swings for nine months, thereafter the former pious members of the church kindheartedly, inevitably welcomed a promising addition to their compact, unconditionally loving family nonetheless. A baby girl.

Their baby daughter has been raised as an extraordinarily one of a kind infant for a year until her development was murderously monstrous and indicating the elapsing time by transmuting into a toddler, although her parents' ageless immortatility they've fulfilled so far. Moreover, their one of a kind sunshine's very first words were mama and dada and her development was flabbergastingly mesmerizing due to mewling her very first words when she's scarcely five-month-old infant, besides bashfully wobbling shortly before her first birthday and always attempting to balance her weightless figure, in spite of always losing balance and her pudgy, round knees grazing the ground.

First and foremost, their almost two-year-old toddler's fair skin tone was exquisitely matching with her dark, expressive eyebrows and cataract of satinly healthy chestnut strands, curtaining her porcelain, round façade, paired with her big, round caramel brown minerals with its brutal honesty and naked inquisitiveness blazing the indiscernible midnight black pupils, aflare of every foreign and familiar surrounding, encircling her very presence. Further, the youngster's favorite colour was any nuance of purple just like her mother and donned up in purple attires even though there were times when the chromacy of her attires varieted for everyday. Last but not least, her name was Jemima Martha Martin Howard.

As the daylight daily episode sundowned and its once humongously golden, celestially radiant sun climbed above the horizon of Caligantem Paulo Messor, the inexorable evolution from daylight to nighttime with its prospect's graciously somber and expressive nuances was painted the nocturnal starless sky with its balefully full, round palish moon hovering and gleaming partly with its bountiful moonlight below. The crickets' serene, silver-tongued chanson delicately, fluently ghosted the uncommonly silent neighbourhoods and lulling to certain lonely children to drift off asleep promptly until the twilight dawn.

After the compact family's mouth-wateringly delightful, hedonistic dinner they'd roasted chicken with grilled vanilla potatoes and vegetables, subsequently the former clergyman solemnly registered his emphatic decision to wash the dishes, whilst the brunette manipulated her alabaster, lean arms to scoop into dotingly secure, heartwarming hug their ray of sunshine to convey her to her own bedroom.

"Mommy, I don't want to sleep!" Manipulating in desperate stretch her pudgy, childish arms to ghost the thin air of the dimly illuminated with divinely golden light hall, Jemima Martha's northern lilt maliciously punctured her emotional plea, imbibing with her big, roundish honey brown minerals the brunette's still youthful, welling in grace facial attributes, beautifully mantled with nimble shadows partly her face.

"Shh, shh, shh, honey! You are really supposed to be asleep at the moment after dinner." Rocking and bouncing the weightless body of the toddler into her scooped hug, the former pious woman of the cloth tugged a benevolently maternal, satin smile at the corners of her joyous mouth. Her flimsy heart leaped as if she's on cloud nine to fasten with her scooped embrace the youngster and providing her unconditional love, monstrous warmness and delicate comfort, landing her pool of deep, barbarically straightforward chocolate on Jemima's roundish, porcelain profile. In the meanwhile, the young woman's fuzzy slippers-clad footsteps ghostwrited casually the carpeted flooring, whereas navigating her fashionably casual gait to the children's room whilst fixing her jet-black, leather eyepatch to fasten her severely injured cabochon since her adolescence. "It's high time for bed. It's good for you to be at bed right away."

Despite the young girl's pure, bland inquisitiveness to discover the grim past behind her biological mother's eyepatch and barbarously injured cabochon, howsoever, she potently, optimistically believed and deemed her creator as unblemishedly gorgeous and the oblivion of her flaws such as acne, scars, wounds and bruises were hideously pointless to be focused on even judged.

"But Mommy, I'm not sleepy at all." As soon as the infamously squeaky room's door swung opened and the both females ventured inside with its dumped ajar opened and predictably small gap dividing the real proximity of the doorframe and door, afterwards the little girl fashioned into ominously balled fists her petite, marbled hands to rub her eyelids and muffling a yawn, indicating the wee hints of her fatigued condition.

"Nevermind! Which means there will be a bedtime story or a lullaby."

"A bedtime story!" The violent euphoria in Jemima Martha's fleet, girlish giggle grinding her tongue pitched the room, whereas seconds before being laid down in her gracefully lacquered, hardwood crib and escorting her motionlessly ghosting with its comforting presence light brown teddy bear, consequently Timeena maneuvered her button nose mellowly nuzzle into a platonically sweet Eskimo kiss her ray of sunshine.

"That's adorable. What would you want me to tell you as a bedtime story, sweetie?" The glowing, friendly English lilt in the older lady's posed question, begging for an immediate answer didn't fade away after laying down Jemima in her own crib and managing to linger her spidery milky fingers onto her long mop of extraordinarily glossy chestnut strands, admiring the crispy softness of her naturally healthy, fresh hair. At the moment, the toddler violently snatched her light brown teddy bear into her pudgy, protective arms and perpetually, monotonously melting into her mother's mellow, loving touchs.

"This eyepatch." Taking the unwelcoming, frosty risk of acknowledging the gloomy secret behind her mother's solely inhumanely wounded iris was stilling her perfectly normal aroused interest to discover the sorely painful, ugly truth.

"Aww, my little bird Jemima Martha," The huskiness in the British aristocrat's girlish, unhealthily demure snicker didn't vanish, dripping from her naturally roseate, plumpish lips as her pristinely spidery, blanched fingers cradled and fingered playfully, greedily her creation made of her own flesh and blood's flawless dark brown locks, twirling and curling perkily, villainously on her digits. "You're quite young to know the truth about it."

"I really want to know, Mommy! Please!" Even when her hazelish-brown jewels blazed diabolical curiosity and emotional beggingness to acknowledge the ugly, naked truth about her leather eyepatch, meanwhile, the brunette managed to shake her head in a solemn, emphatic disagreement. "Please!"

"No, honey! I don't want you to have nightmares."

"I don't care about the nightmares, Mommy!"

"My little bird," Lowering rapidly the decibels of her honeyed voice with its uniquely mellow, heartmelting timbre whilst the vowels and syllables contruscted partly her imminent utterance with its friendly, candidly amorous nickname was an amusing phenomenon. Even when the little children were quite burdening their parents to acknowledge everything due to their starkly rabid curiosity, arousing their interest in examining every petty detail inside the gigantic world they live, the majority of the parents rather preferred to stay quiet about some gruesomely inescapable phenomenons or rather disasters that have befallen them, no matter in their early childhood or nowadays. "When you grow up, I solemnly promise you to tell you about it! You won't understand it right now and it won't be okay if it haunts you like words and voices."All of a sudden, the young girl's eyelids blinked incessantly in waltizing choir and being all ears, whereas attentively eavesdropping the angelic anthems, jingling into her petite, sensitive ears and sucking on her swan, chubby thumb and sponging with her oral caverns its pad of her Timeena wanted to do right now was keeping her cherub angel from giving her blood-curdling nightmares about her severely wounded orb and the real motive for bandaging it, in order to dodge the others' bone-chilly disgust from her physique.

Even though Timeena's heart tore off on thousand of flimsily glassy, small pieces and shattering a lavish hoary cataract of heartache and bleak melancholy how it's been a long time since she's paired not only platonically, but also romantically with Judah and having a child for two straight years, barely daring to break her vow of giving chills to either of them about her grim past. The stability of the former devotional nun's heart was as flimsy as a cloth's fabric. Easily brash. Almost irreparable. The most majestic functioning organ of hers to still her muscles and bones' gearing up.

"Then it's going to be a lullaby?"

"Mhm. It will be more relieving than a bedtime story, okay?" Shortly before clearing gruffily her throat with a featherly soft, gentle cough, the young lady bended down to press an affectionate, lethal peck on Jemima's forehead.

"Ya!"

"_Twinkle twinkle little star how I wonder what you are up above the world so high like a diamond in the sky! When the blazing sun is gone! When he nothing shines upon!" When her throat was hallowedly clear, the haphazardness of the British compatriot's angelically honeyed voice looming in gingerly lethal lullaby vibrated her throat as it was oblivious for the younger woman the conveniently warm presence of Judah, ghosting her back after stealthily venturing inside his creation's separate room. Although the British compatriot wasn't the big-shot in singing and composing silver-tonguedly chants, however, it didn't cease her opportunity from singing to herself from time to time and bugging off Judah with her lacking talent, besides lulling sweetly, affectionately to their little cherub angel that was getting huger with the gradually advancing time. "Then you show your little light! Twinkle, twinkle all the nightthen the traveler in the dark! Thanks you for your tiny spark, he could not see which way togoIf you did not twinkle so." As the lullaby's progress was timelessly intensifying with the soft tones and tingling angelically sacred anthems into the youngster's petite, flexible ears, subsequently she found herself kipping, wonderfully spellbinded by her creator's soothing voice that warmed her heart and heated the pit of her stomach. _

_"Good night, my lovely Paulo avis!" After series of soothing strokes grazed the infant's head, consequently a draped masculinely muscly, strong arm around Timeena's waist startled her and weakly flinching on her serenely composed spot, immediately shifting her attention to the large framed gentleman, lingering her sympathetically modest smile, tattooing her facial features. "Holy, Judah! I didn't expect you so far."_

_"I finished slightly earlier with the dishes, my love!" Afterwards the blond peppered his girlfriend's chubby, well-carved cheeks with tenderly exalted kisses with its featherly soft, reassuring touch of its lips. "Yar so cute when you're blushing and you're scared, Timeena!" Pinkness generously tickled the younger lady's facial skin and sweltering heat crawling beneath, contagiously squeezing her jaw line to reproduce an uncontrollable, hysterically unhealthy giggle in the lowest possible decibels, transmuted into whispers as Judah joined her, drawing her weightless, petite frame towards him._

_"I'm not scared. It's pretty unpredictable."_

_Whatever! However, our ray of sunshine is undeniably beautiful when she sleeps."_

_"And less nosier."_

_Within a few minutes after mesmerizingly molting into the breathtaking vista of their daughter kipping peacefully, beatifically, thereafter the pairing retired to the living room as the brunette was braced into the love of her life's secure, promising embrace as her slim, frail waist was a battlefield of twain of snaked muscular, headstrongly potent arms and sensing a graceful nose nuzzling the nape of her ghostly pale neck. The couple couldn't stifle their jubilant chuckles, flexing their throats. _

_As soon as the living room was suffocated by fatalistically stubborn doldrum, austerely showering the ambience and muting each deft noise, consequently the British aristocrat's facial expression broke into a hysterical, inward sob._

_"You have always been nice to me even when the least I deserved your kindness, sweetie!"_

_ "Don't talk like that, my rare bird!"_

_"You don't have any clue what I've been through!" The stern sharpness of Timeena's whimper, blatantly coursing her naturally nude pink, plumpish lips with its opulent cataract of crystalline, translucently sticky twin fat tears gushing down her cheeks ushered the older gentleman to daub them with his brittle fingertips. _

_"No matter what ya have been through, I'll be always next to you."_

_"Do you think my family has even approved my decision to become a nun and being childless for the rest of my days? Ha!" The sardonic rhetorical question didn't prominently touch the Bostonian even startling him though the continous process of daubing his lover's crystalline, sorrowful heavy rain of tears and managing his mouth to peck the back of her head. "Do you think this fricking eyepatch is the crucial reason why my step-mother was alright with the decision how her black sheep daughter is taking her vows and instead of respecting my decision, she called me a holy whore of God and in my sleep she slit my shut eyelid? On the morning after, my eye bled like a lake of gore."_

_"Sh, shh, shh, my sweetie! I'm severely sorry for all this what ya have been through. Ya don't deserve it at all."_

_The battlefield of sticky tears, sniffles and candidly consolations pitched the dimly lit living room as the persistent attempts of the former holy man to console his girlfriend were far cry from fiasco. The grim truth about the former devotional woman of the cloth finally leaked. _


	31. Sweet But Psycho I

**Author's Note: Since Oliver and Timothy are my AHS male biggest crushes, subsequently I decided to write something with them especially Oliver, in fact, I haven't written anything about him and he deserves something! It will be a dynamic roller coaster of angst and fluff for sure!**

**Moreover, I'm not a fan of the overrated song Sweet But Psycho but I wanted to name this one-shot after that song, due to Oliver's incarnation!**

\- ***** **-  
\- 29th of October, 1964 -

The days passing at snail's pace for Nancy Lavender Goodwood equated to the ironic child's play, embodying her stay in one of the most ill-famed mental hospitals in the small city of Massachusetts. Each ticking second, minute, hour even a day felt like an ethereally, unholy timeless sanctum where the time has eventually halted to gauge its current estimation. The real notion of centuries could articulate the sluggish pace of the timeless eternity and reckoning Nancy's daily schedule that was formulated in her meals twice daily paired with working in the bakery and staying from time to time in the common room with Lana, Grace, Shelley and Kit who was the falsely accused nefariously ominous serial killer under the name Bloody face.

The young woman was in the beginning of her twenties, standing solely 5'4 and possessing sheerly averagely body structure. Her waterfall of silken, profoundly photogenic iris tresses curtaining her olive-tanned façade. Her exquisitely dainty, delicate facial attributes such as her small, button nose and thin, elegantly sable eyebrows motioning the genuine curl of her facial expressions. In addition to her facial attributes, twain of huge, expressively rotund amber bijous mirrored the absolute reality glimmered its true majesticness of the absolute reality's illustration.

Further, a pentagram miniature star tattoo imprinted balefully stark on her wrist, factly, Nancy Lavender's devotion to the atheism and Satanism ascended divinely her interest in the vile even if her very character brightly contrasted her religion that equated somehow to the immorality according to the religious nobodies' perceptions. Her late adolescence aroused her ginormous interest in the atheism and Satanism even regularly practising during her leisure time, besides re-reading dark and classy Literature a couple of times and having abysmally logical discussions with her older brothers Herbert and Kenneth that were tremendously religious young men whose visits in the chapel remarked once a week at least. She genuinely enjoyed her discussions with her older siblings, regardless the mass of discords they had on such controversially complex topics, battering their tongue tips and grinding on, begging for their immediate, celestial release.

Her miniature pentagram star tattoo has swathed her left wrist since the beginning of her young adulthood.

In the past few weeks, Nancy Lavender lost literally anything like her job to teach other keen enthusiasts of Satanism and most of all her entire freedom to divinely relish and treasure each ounce and notion of her very life, full of bright opportunities, full of bright hopes, full of bright adventurous, dynamic roller coasters whirling and twirling her experience.

Due to her friend that could be rather interpreted namely as her former friend witnessed her continuous depression through the advancing weeks and months even ruthlessly restless insomnia heinously tormenting the lilac-haired lady, consequently Briarcliff became her home and populating its ruthlessly lifeless, dull hoary walls of the facility until either her emphatic release and seeking its cure or on the contraries the eventual, apocalyptic demise suffocated her bones and muscles from functioning lastly. The young woman couldn't believe one of her fewest friends could be capable of alienating from her and labelling her as mentally ill for the recurring depression and insomnia. She didn't have even any inkling of detrimental hysteria or other genuinely eerie symptoms of not colourfully fitting with the grandiose mass of general population, however, her days were sincerely reckoned and enveloped in the fiendishly pitch-black, unsacredly darkness engulfing her from head to toes.

Notwithstanding the circumstances, the young atheist made a handful of pearly authentic, deep friendships with Kit, Grace, Shelley, Pepper and somewhat Lana, in spite of she wasn't quite fond of the journalist's exuberant inquisitiveness estimating her prying nature, anyway Nancy didn't deem her as a dreadful person at all. The young atheist had seldom skirmishes with the ambitious Monsignor, the head nun of the notorious mental hospital Sister Jude and her meek, sheerly innocent protege Sister Mary Eunice. Anyway her impressions glimmered their true colours due to the physical and mental encounters of the patient with each member of the church though she was mostly doted on the aspiring Monsignor and Sister Mary Eunice, factly, they treated her graciously polite and they didn't demonstrate any inkling of fiery hostility.

The sonly hired juvenile psychiatrist Oliver Thredson was the new addition of Briarcliff and being potently, obstinately against after Sister Jude's inhumane treatment towards the wretched souls and the unimaginable, villainous methods of the inmates' cure of opulence of mental sicknesses. The psychiatrist was hired to work on Kit Walker's case though he also glimpsed studiously the lilac-haired lady and engulfed in a compact bubble of his celestially compassion extraordinarily afflictive contouring his youthful, refreshingly attractive facial attributes.

Nancy Lavender deeply know she didn't belong somewhere which was a residence for criminally insane and didn't fit with them at all. Who could be her knight in the shining armor one day?

While the atheist populated the bakery and crooking her petite, flimsily marbled hands to knead with her deft fingers the round-shaped series of tiny doughs seating motionlessly smeared before her on the counter, the humdrum ballad of lunatics' frequent babbles, prominently sprinkled with stark, inflaming rage due to their double shifts situated in the bakery and unhealthy restlessness blanching their pallid complexions.

"Nancy," The suddenness of the stealthily terrifying very presence of the psychiatrist caught off guard the atheist as his honey-mouthed voice tingled angelic anthems while addressing informally the patient as he seated and the thin, flimsy elasticity of their proximity etched elegantly. "We have to talk!"

"Doctor, I am indeed busy and you don't have any idea how much my goose is cooked if I don't-" The series of begrudging stutters categorically ominous escaping her mouth as her breathing hitched frigidly, ruthlessly and sensing the unnatural exuberant pressure of her digits and palms kneading unspeakably the plenty of roundish raw doughs and heels of the younger woman's elvish, thickly dough-smeared hands scouring exuberantly the soft entities heinously headstrong.

"Don't worry, Nancy! I know better how we will arrange the things so that Sister Jude to not get you in trouble." All of a sudden, the psychiatrist gingerly, politely cut off as his naturally pale-pinkish, lusciously cherub lips parted in his stealthily plotted concept of the notorious, old asylum's escape later tonight.

"Really?" Incredulity roughly contoured the patient's delicate, feminine facial attributes momentarily, whilst manipulating her thin, elegant eyebrow to incline mischievously, spotlighting remarkably the medley of speechlessness, overwhelmedness and great nonplus contagiously carving its prominent, authentic territory.

What the young woman could barely believe was how the sonly hired juvenile doctor that was a couple of years her seniors was capable of gifting her with the extraordinarily celestial freedom! He was the only staff member that could bestow her with something blomindingly unbelievable for each lunatic who has either truly deserved or not to be committed in the mental institution. The thought of the nefariously unspeakable atrocities whirling and twirling their own phenomenally disastrous vortexes staged behind the dully, lifelessly hoary walls of the madhouse twitched spine-chillingly Oliver's stomach and envisioning the vividly explicit, horrendous prospects of the inhumane treatment towards the mindless inmates and how Doctor Arthur Arden and Sister Jude were the main antagonists of their disaster along with the beehive of attentive, demanding security guards and orderlies.

"Yes, Miss Nancy Lavender Goodwood!" Still self-consciously questioning his mannerism and genuine compassion readable across his spellbindingly bewitching facial attributes, thus the pronunciation of the young woman's full name conveyed the friendly reminder to amorously blast the young lady's gut when the hair-splitting blandishments clouded her chaotic hurricane of thoughts, being oblivious what kind of ruinously somber mask swathed Oliver's charming face. Full of paradoxal secrets. Full of paradoxal mysteries. Full of cryptical theories behind his very identity to be uttered and purred behind his back. A kindhearted, sympathetic smirk was tattooed on Oliver's porcelain, yet youthful complexion.

\- A Few Hours Later or So -

Within a few hours after the young woman arranged an appointment with the cryptical doctor in six o'clock to meet in the lobby, in order to fulfill perpetually their cloak-and-dagger motive to flee the unimaginably nefarious, dilapidating mental hospital for criminally insane, consequently Nancy escorted diligently, mousy Oliver to the front door and heading towards his lily-white vehicle parked outside.

The mid-autumn faint, nocturnally reassuring breeze aggressively coiled to fan the both young adults' figures when the series of their dreary, unavoidably contumacious footsteps whispered against the ground and the doctor was gentlemanly unlocking his car's doors and thereafter holding firmly the passenger's rear door, in order to aid the atheist to hop up inside the vehicle divinely smug, cozy.

"Doctor Thredson! Doctor Thredson!" The haphazardness of the very presence of Jude's employee Frank McCann fleeing the monumental façade to bleat blatantly, huskily his chant to keep the younger gentleman's wits about his formal, professional address. "Sister Jude is asking for ya!" Panting heavily when the both men's proximity inched more than a couple of feet to swathe the thinness of the extravagant elasticity. "Anne Frank, or whoever she is, her husband brought her back!"

"I don't work here anymore, Frank! As a matter of fact, I never did. You can tell her I said that." Shortly before participating in the prominently comforting, lonely company of the juvenile inmate, throughout the psychiatrist's heavy sigh bubbled up from his muscly, toned chest and sheer nonchalance touching his caution, whereas the authentically tremendous impatience of Nancy to witness her savior to start the vehicle's engine coursed through her thoughts and venomous veins.


	32. Sweet But Psycho II

**Author's Note: That's the sequel of the 3-parter one-shot with Oliver, Timothy and the female OC Nancy! Furthermore, if you enjoyed and liked the previous part of the trilogy, subsequently I hope you like and enjoy the current sequel. Furthermore, pardon me if I don't portray realistically Oliver's house, howsoever, my bland excuse is I haven't watched Asylum for months, in fact, I don't want to struggle with a depression after watching the last episodes of the season, itself! **

It's a special dedication to my marvelous buddies like sociopathsis, stallonesgirl, southernauthor, Celeste-Moore, Trash_Bag_123, JunykoWalker, Yararebird and barnesthor-, regardless if you are Timothy or Oliver enthusiasts! I hope you like and enjoy this one-shot! :))

As the psychiatrist confronted the security guard and granted him the rationally logical explanation to articulate his temporal position in the dilapidating, monumental mental hospital, consequently the atheist manifested to recline her back cozily comfy, recklessly against the leather seat and casting her amber brown depths glassily blank, mindlessly imbibing the clean rear window of the lily-white vehicle, whilst suckling unnerving, demure her lower cherub lip between her front pearly-white teeth and delicately dumping a small rivulet of spongy rivulet to trickle its translucent juicy liquid to tickle the delicate skin.

"I took care of the business." Once the very presence of the older gentleman kindheartedly accompanying the atheist, the friendly reminder of his honey-mouthed, eloquent coo soothingly conveyed its message that they were no longer inside the old asylum and eavesdropping the humdrum, recurring ballad of inmates' despondent babbles and dowdy bewails, escorting conveniently the orderlies' austere yells distressing their preys of their grip and biding their wrists and body muscles, in order to restrict their hysterically devilish motions indicating their non-verbal protests. A candidly beaming, gullible smirk tugged perkily, deftly at the corner of Nancy's chapped mouth and shifting her utter attention to the older man that could be labeled as her knight in the shining armor.

"Thank you for your help, Dr. Thredson!" In the meanwhile, the sheer, childlikely gracious politeness of the former patient swathed her in the holy light of her gullible coyness, swaddling warmly her petite-frame when Oliver's dexterously meaty, appealingly long fingers ushered to work on buckling his belt that braced her larger frame.

"Don't call me that, Nancy!" At the moment, the psychiatrist manipulated his mammoth, consolingly ghostly pale hand to claw gingerly, graciously her dainty shoulder on reflex as his touch conveyed vehemently warmness spiking electrifying goosebumps to pebble beneath her rigidly bland, shapeless stone blue patient gown armoring her flesh and obscuring her swan curves to be mantled in thick veil of fiendish mysticism. Mild ferocious shiver paradoxally ticklish, mischievously twitched her exposed bare flesh of her forearms, swan calves and delicate expanse whilst folding her leanly alabaster, silken arms across her chest to provide her the unconditionally covet warmness to fiery absorb her muscles, chattering clumsily, impulsively begrudging her dainty jaw line. "It's just Oliver! You are really trembling. I won't leave you trembling and being on the verge of catching cold." The suddenness of Oliver removing his charcoal gray blazer to peel off his mystically muscly, strong arms and torso and subsequently maneuvering its attire to drape clumsily ruthless the younger lady's shoulders and back. "Here! That's much better." A docile, solemn nod approved her façade's position and her fingertips managing to grapple tightly, stubbornly the blazer's lapels dedicatedly to surround herself with the weight's vast warmness the fabric bestowed.

In a long minute of comfy, sinisterly blood-curdling doldrum frigidly blasted the car's interior as the pairing adjusted conveniently their postures and the doctor inserted the key to start the lowly, tiresomely humming car engine to ignite the immobile vehicle's adrenaline, throughout he shot a fleetly studious glance at the satanist, dawdling his eerily beaming, dim smirk apt to ornate to flourish upon his naturally glossily nude pink, deliciously plump lips.

The satanist didn't even have any idea of what to elaborate as impending utterance just to molt relentlessly sweltering the rigidly bulky, invincible iceberg of the awkward silence, filtering with its frostness to contagiously wedge their lips in a pensive, speechless paralysis.

She had a few of interactions with Oliver that bounded them as a patient and doctor solely unlike his divinely benevolent intention of unlocking her from the lethally lifeless, dull cage that every lunatic committee in Briarcliff with being amidst the celestially authentic keys to the freedom and throughout joining the general population through the monstrously invisible gates of the hugest yearn of each wretched soul. The pungent fragrance of the deligtfully divine, exquisite freedom teasingly tickling the tiny, flexible nostrils. The luxuriously pleasant illustration of the multi-coloured, majestic sites that haven't any associations with the lifeless, infernally dully four-wall rooms of the demise, the venomous agony and apocalyptic affliction.

In spite of their meager encounters they traded with one another, what it candidly enchanted the juvenile satanist about the psychiatrist was not only his incredibly impressive pools of abysmally poetic, cryptic cocoa brown along with his neatly trimmed dark hair capping his scalp, but also his gentlemanly graciousness and kindness extraordinarily emphasizing his true nature leaking through his verbal and non-verbal anatomy. Notwithstanding the circumstances, Oliver was also rabidly enamoured with the young woman that accompanied him on his car journey to his home, factly, he deemed her as much different. Or rather the epitome of the one of a kind. Her halo ringlet of fiendishly greasy lilac tresses curtaining exquisitely her profile. Her amber minerals drinking every discrete detail that taunted her indiscernible jet-black pupil. Her indisputable politeness didn't cease to astound him.

Solely the lowly arduous droning car engine and the eloquently slating nocturnal songs of the crickets pitched the background.

\- ***** **-  
\- An Hour Later -

When the car journey passed sluggishly at summer breeze's pace as Oliver was utterly focused on maneuvering his head strongly potent, marbled fingers working on the steering wheel restlessly, Nancy catnapped humbly as her eyelids encumbered vast of exuberant weight hypodermically crawling to enforce their eventual brief beauty coma after having enough of beholding the repetitive vistas regularly. The vista of despondence painted gracefully with refined brushes to spotlight the somber, bleak nuances and the true emotions the details emulated to hint the viewers numbering the juvenile atheist.

It was high time for Nancy to behold with her own eyes and to inhale inwardly, presentably pleased the fragrance of the carte blanch.

As soon as the pairing's arrival in the psychiatrist's home when the monotonous, unceasing car engine no longer subtly droned, thereafter the older gentleman registered gently, kindly to nudge the satanist's shoulder paired with a cautious, featherly-soft squeeze of her shoulder to keep her wits about their recent arrival.

"Nancy, we're home!" The suddenness of his appallingly calm, honey-mouthed voice remarkably emphasizing his caution as his pristine digits and fingertips massaged considerately her shoulder, admiring her stark femininity.

"Oh!" Muffling graciously a yawn with one of her elvish, weathered hands and pinching broadly opened her citrine cabochons, thus flicking her gaze at the older gentleman and boring into his profoundly promising, inviting chocolate brown gemstones. "I just took a short nap! I am genuinely sorry if I am quite distracted."

"Don't apologize!" In the interval, the both adults unbuckled their belts and managed to hop out of the vehicle as they ambled up to the front door shortly after the doctor locked up his car at last. "Come on! Don't be shy! I won't hurt you, I promise." When the duo perched before the front door after their imminent destination on foot, consequently a coyly girlish, dim smile incised authentically across her naturally roseate, scrumptiously plumpish lips as her meek escort of the psychiatrist didn't conveyed its celestially unsacred broad waves of unconditional discomfort and bone-chilling pyrexia to infectiously bloody-minded befoul her muscles and cells with myriad of unthinkable paralysis of mortification. The purely welcoming, presentably solemn promise of the doctor to not harm or impact even modicum of physical or mental damage on her brewed ferociously refreshing its cauldron of compound.

Even though Nancy could hardly trust any stranger and she has almost never bestowed even modicum of uniquely precious credence to perform the sacrifice for tweaking off sharply a segment of her flimsy heart, anyway she didn't have other choice than keeping in touch with Oliver and gladly enrolling his offer to not be housed inside the ill-famed, gigantic madhouse. After acknowledging the crudeness the majority of the nobodies could impale her heart with even a tiny, nevertheless, bare, sinister scar that fetches explicitly vivid, scintillating flashbacks of the perpetrator that tracked her fleshy heart and very soul with his or her own touch carding the guiltless purity and the opportunity they were offered with.

"I'm candidly grateful for your hospitability and the rescue from that snakepit once again, Oliver! It means the world to me," Once the maintainence of Oliver and Nancy's proximity that was a meager inch dividing their muscles to graze faintly, meanwhile, the psychiatrist inserted the key in the rusty keyhole to twist it twice until the door clicked twice, articulating its progress of unlockement at last. In a quarter a minute the door swung widely opened and notoriously echoing its wail, whereas the older man gentlemanly, decorously held the door aside for the young lady, docilely choiring bob of his head.

"You don't need to thank me! Ladies first!" Demurely childlike, hoarse snigger sailed out of her dry, berry-coloured tongue, craving to hydrate and nurture the soft fat with rivulet of healthily liquid to linger inside her oral caverns, furrowing her pristinely thin, dark eyebrows to cusp the bridge of her button, dainty nose while stepping inside the corridor and the series of wearisome, pliant footsteps surrutated against the floor and registering a solemn, modest nod.

"I would appear quite ungrateful as if I'm using your kindness just to be snuck out of the snakepit where I was committed against my will."

"I know, Nancy! I don't think it was fair how you were committed just because of your insomnia and depression which was a bit too much." Suddenly, the older gentleman slammed shut the door, whereas the young lady ushered her leanly satin, unhealthily pallid arms to peel off the conveniently cotton blazer of her shoulders and humbly hanging it on the lacquered coat hanger. "That's such a pity for your former friend could abandon such a kindhearted and amazing friend like you!"

"I have to second it though they will realize what they're truly missing after the mess they mudded the wrong person." Bountiful layer of bittersweetness glossily highlighted the purple-haired satanist's facial attributes while diligently escorting the doctor to the living room as his colossal, delightfully potent hand ushered her to take a seat on the cosy couch against him and maintaining an adequate distance, inching their figures with a couple of inches as they instantly adapted to the thin, stealthy elasticity. The fiercely howling autumn breeze echoed through the isolative, secure walls of the property."However, I'm glad they showed their true colours so that to get rid off them sooner than later. You don't know what they might leak in a New York minute after dedicating your trust and friendship to somebody that hasn't even genuinely valued. Today friends but tomorrow they're rivals."

"You know what they're saying about the friends and enemies!" At the moment, the atheist manipulated her petite, feebly weathered hands to fidget and grasp the rigidly shapeless hem of her patient gown at the very thought of the former friendships she has experienced and contemplating through the translucently achromatic, preposterous veils fanning lightly past her fogged vision, whilst her brittle lungs elaborated a heavy, exhausted sigh to course through her tiny, vulnerable nostrils. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer!" Another muffled yawn bubbled up from the young woman's feminine Adam's apple and sensing the true nature of exuberant fatigue chivying and contracting her cells and muscles with sore pain which wasn't left unseen by the older gentleman, in spite of Nancy's attempts to not drift off asleep anywhere in the property whenever she covet the least. She would abysmally regret if she has fallen asleep somewhere else rather than reclining on a cozy bed. It made her feeling incredulously stupid. "You seem pretty exhausted and sleepy, Nancy!"

The salty flavor of the sleep and unnatural fatigue swiftly inundated the Satanist's dry fatness of her tongue and pinching widened her jewels, formulating the caught-off-guard stance when the older man exposed her sloppy exposure of weariness staining her irises and epidermis.

After being committed against her will in the small city of Massachusetts' ominously nefarious, dilapidating facility, on one hand, she was immensely grateful for gaining her ability to collect sufficient rest and nutrients throughout the evening hours though on other hand it profoundly, unnaturally inescapable deteriorated her very tissues and petering out the insomnia that spiritually and fleshly possessed her character. The second nature of tiredness finally confronted the purple-haired lady and swathed her icily in its groggy sanctum.

"I will be alright, Oliver! I need to take a shower before everything, first and foremost!" At the moment, she lifted up her rear from the comfy furniture and clawed viciously the armrest, darting her cinnamon brown depths to the twain of coffee brown. "I smell like a wet dog and heavy medicaments. It's just disgusting the reek I ooze of."

"It's alright! I will make something for dinner! And the bathroom is in the other part of the corridor." Motioning his middle from the couch and rolling his cotton oyster-white plain pair of shirt's long sleeves up to his elbows as his leaked muscular, thickly hairy forearms breathed freshly, whereas the Satanist manipulated her imminent destination up to the bathroom, following her savior's instructions. The ferociously antagonistic growl of the younger adult's stomach tingled alarming tones out loud, indicating her raw hunger she hasn't sated fully yet. "I'll make sure by the time you take a shower to eat something to fill your stomach and feel much better even if it takes a New York minute to be done."

Without a second thought, Nancy dashed out of the living room and diligently marching towards the bathroom that was in the end of the long, dim light hallway.

Once the young lady manifested her elvish, feebly blanched hand to clumsily paw the door handle, thus the door swung featherly-soft, timidly opened at the thick mantle of pitch-black, ethereally timeless darkness dolling up the site and clumsily researching with her fingers for the light switcher and seeting foot as her threadbare, filthy white slippers gingerly drummed against the neatly clean tiled floor.

A smartly clean, untouched pair of baby blue bathrobe was hooked on the door bounded individually with the bath towel. Uncertainty what might be the upcoming outfit of the young lady, consequently she thoughtlessly pelt off ruthlessly each piece of attire that was part of her patient daily, ordinary uniform and hooking them carelessly past the bathrobe until her bare, petite frame was beautifully enveloped in its dim artificial saturation of the lamp that filtered independently, brightly the bathroom. Moreover, the wonderfully devilish mantle of profuse filth and scum embellished Nancy's naked petite-frame and the frigid climate pebbling passionately unholy her small, fragily mauve nipples.

Aftee retiring under the shower and adjusting the faucets for the water's temperature in general. Stream of wee rivulets impaling the patchy holes pelted generously its sufficiently hot liquid pouring down to wash off the thick layers of unimaginable filth and scum along with her long mop of drenched, lukewarmly unruly locks losing their naturally disheveled forms strengthening their anatomy. A lowly mellifluous hum escaped her rosy-coloured cracked lips and pinching shut her eyelids to melt into the indulgently delightful, sacredly celestial heavy rain of raindrops beading profusely her scalp down to her charcoal gray manicured toes.

During his love interest's absence in the bathroom, consequently the doctor retired in the kitchen and rummaging warily his refrigerator for any food products to fix a quick dinner meal for his recent visitor sooner than later before she left eventually the shower.

How the love destined to chase down eagerly, savagely his own prey of the phenomenally ambiguous process? It has been a long time when Oliver had looked at Nancy not just as an object of his own hedonistic, vain desires to fulfill his primary needs as a human being. The phenomenally assertive, inevitable process of falling in love with an individual that not only possessed ethereally timeless grace building her anatomy, but also her bewitching and arcanely mousy character emulated to his preference as well. Unlike his former victims of his secretive, darker side of skinning corpses and carving with feminine soft flesh lamps and furniture and violating their motionless pink nether areas, something urged to intrigue the mysterious serial killer that hasn't been exposed as Bloody face yet even after Wendy Peyser's barbaric, unthinkable demise.

His masculinely strong, dexterous fingers fidgeted to retrieve a handful of tomatoes, potatoes, carrots, a tad of fresh cheese and oil by slamming shut the refrigerator's door. The nocturnally tranquil hush comfortably strangled the walls of the four-wall site. Even though Oliver wasn't excellently skilled in the culinary, anyway he relished to fix his own meals within a quarter an hour mostly.

The medley of howling autumn breeze's dance and the crickets' peacefully silver-tongued, beatific songs chirping the background rebelliously tingled angelic anthems into the psychiatrist's vulnerable ears. He wasn't a keen enthusiast of the rowdy atmosphere and the huge masses of people. He would rather prefer staying at home with a book and a mug of coffee instead of joining the huge mass of general population where Oliver would earn ocean of skeptically piercing gapes, spearing his physique from head to toes.

In a long moment of washing the tomatoes and carrots by slicing them warily, besides peeling off the potatoes and boiling them and chopping them, throughout he besprinkled tad of cheese drizzling with its alabaster chunks to permeate the dish and then oiling each prominent segment.

The haphazardness of the series of humdrum, graciously familiar footsteps pitched behind the psychiatrist and teasingly tickling invincibly his epidermis when the very presence of the young woman whose petite-frame was donned up in nothing else than one of his old, large-sized fern green shirts guarding her curves and flesh as its hem fiercely cheerful flaring across her bare, nubile mid-thighs leaking freely to shimmer beneath the artifial saturation, painting the actual skin tone with brighter sunny shades. Her waterfall of soaked iris tresses framed her round, full profile and the old, threadbare patient slippers were replaced with convenient, suitable slippers slipping into her petite feet. She looked stunning.

His smoky quartz gemstones speared the atheist's physique though Oliver attempted to not gullibly be succumbed by her physique. Nancy Lavender genuinely resembled an angel, propping on the lackered doorframe and registering to offer a sympathetically angelic, succumbing smile permeating across her glossy nude pink, plumpish lips.

"Fortunately, I was aware of your presence, Nancy! The dinner is done." At the moment, another ferociously antagonistic stomach growl jingled alarming tones into the atheist's dainty ears whilst obediently, presentably tucking a fistful of stray, drenched locks behind her ear. "You don't have to help me with anything for now. First and foremost, you deserve to rest fully!" When Oliver crooked his pristinely strong, meaty fingers around the dish with the fork and headed to the living room, consequently the Satanist didn't move a single muscle and her gaze eagerly, inquisitively followed in the corner of her eye each motion the psychiatrist's anatomy flickered recklessly. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Just a glass of white wine, please!"

"For sure, dear!" As soon as the doctor managed to serve gracefully the plate of Nancy's dinner meal on the coffee table, consequently he dashed back to the en-suite kitchen to retrieve an empty, unused yet glass of wine and removing the tap of a bottle of mouth-wateringly exquisite caramel liquor to pool partly her glass lastly. The friendly, amorous nickname the older gentleman platonically addressed the former inmate conveyed its greatly contagious waves of meltness, relentlessly sheathed her brittle heart as its heart pulsations vehemently accelerated and hammered into her ribcage. Almost no other representative of the opposite sex has addressed her as kindheartedly as the doctor does.

Within a handful of moments, subsequently the pairing seated against each other on the cozy sofas and the young woman dangled her virginally delicate, luster fingers around her silver fork and pronging a mouthful of her initial bite to savor its healthily scrumptious flavor lacing her tongue and oral caverns until it didn't perch on her tongue tip and subsequently commencing munching and grinding her pearly-white teeth on the bite as it perpetually splattered on beehive of wee chunks and swigging them after being eventually munched entirely.

"This is really good." The frank confession of the young lady dripped from her wine-stained, cherub lips shortly after gulping a couple of meek, tiny sips of the light liquor, squinting up her smoky quartz gemstones at the older man's kind, mystically light-hearted smile bloomed upon his oral slit. The richly delightful fragrance of the amazing alcoholic beverage, the mouth-watering flavor of the dinner dish and honey inescapably versatile suffused the site.

"I'm truly happy that you enjoy and like what I've prepared for you as a fleet dinner meal, Nancy!"

"I have to admit you're a wonderful when it comes up to the culinary skills, Oliver!" Shortly after a second bite wolfily greed, gamely choired the process of restlessly frequent munch, in fact, it's been awhile since the Satanist has masticated something really healthy and most of all, worth its time to be swigged and savored. Moreover, her hunger genuinely bears a semblance of a frantically peckish wild, untamed animal that has searched its own local site for his own food to strive to survive for longer.

"Oh really?" Inclining a thick, masculinely dark eyebrow quizzically, playfully to highlight his actual heartwarmness he dipped in his love interest's rich cataract of altruistic gratitude and cordial kindliness.

"Mhm!"

"I'm not that wonderful cook I've to admit even if I can't cook everything in the world, Nancy! But that's quite heartwarming of your side."


	33. Sweet But Psycho III

**Author's Note: That's the final part of the trilogy one-shot Sweet But Psycho with my favorite psycho and priest feat with the female OC Nancy! If you haven't read the previous 2 parts of the trilogy and you have hopped up right there, subsequently go check them in a jiffy! **

**Furthermore, I would like to thank everybody that has separated from their free time to read this trilogy and hopefully you like and enjoy anything I continue to masterize and deliver out!**

\- A Few Weeks Later or So -

\- 13th of November, 1964 -

In a few weeks, a couple of events spellbinded and staged phenomenally stark while the days were passing at heavy rain's stormy pace. The disappearance and the demise of the nymphomaniac Shelley. The attempted escape of Kit, Grace and Lana during the enormous storm. The possession of Sister Mary Eunice. The disappearance of the patient Nancy who was surreptitiously residing the young psychiatrist's home eventually.

Since the events' dynamic roller coaster choir playing out rapidly rabid, subsequently the both owners of the ill-famed, dilapidating mental hospital for criminally insane had heated discussions about the satanist's abrupt evanescence in the past few weeks and questioning who might be responsible. Initially, Jude didn't have any intentions of fleeing Briarcliff until in the past handful of days whenever she fled the monumental façade to research the familiar outskirts of the small city of Massachusetts, she didn't find any substantial trace of the young woman. Even the Doctor Arden didn't grant her real location for the moment. All he knew was she scarcely paid any visit to his laboratory or an office.

Even though the ambitious Monsignor's chaotic daily schedule with paying a visit to other hallowed sites where his very presence was mandatory, anyway the last thought that railed in his vagon of thoughts about the Satanist that might be his last hope to find her was finding out about the young psychiatrist's location of his residence. Despite his lacking interactions with the young woman and fathoming and assimilating utterly her backstory, the real motives why she was committed against her will for such harmlessly arcane reason and her beliefs in the vile, thus he didn't have any intentions of gving up at all.

Once the British compatriot pulled up his ebony cab to the psychiatrist's home, consequently he hopped out of the cab momentarily and locked up while marching up towards the front door, scanning in the corner of his smoky quartz gem that the rooms lacked of vibrant aureate illumination, factly, they dipped in the ebony darkness. The late-autumn featherly-soft zephyr mischievously, stealthily fanned the aspiring Monsignor's conservatively wool, dark attires of the chastity and his chestnut, smartly trimmed haircut. In spite of Oliver's house rooms weren't lit up, Timothy didn't give up at all.

Standing before the front door and fashioning into a balled fist his mammoth, masculinely veiny hand to rap series of times against the wooden material to taunt the owner of the property's attention in no time, subsequently the echo of the footsteps emanated from the corridor and zinging towards the front door until the front door didn't click dully, emphatically unlocked and swung sufficiently broad to the offered scale of space of Oliver crooking his orthodoxy marbled, dexterous fingers to hold the door and his cocoa brown optics boring into the British compatriot's gaze.

"Good evening, Monsignor! I haven't been expecting you so far." The sheer incredulity and overwhelemedness, medling its brilliantly intoxicating compound to contour roughly, ruthlessly the doctor's facial attributes opted to not alter even any single curve of the contour to obscure any wee inkling of his subtle and cryptic character. A wickedly affable smile tugged at the corner of his pale-pinkish, lusciously cherub lip.

"Good evening, Doctor Thredson! Where's Miss Nancy Lavender Goodwood?"

"I don't know what you are even talking about!" The balefully bared teeth of the British aristocrat whilst fashioning furiously instant his colossal, alabaster hands into balled fists and manifesting his scintillatingly nocturnal, gruesome glare at the psychotic doctor taunted the younger gentleman to stiffle an amused gasp by nipping the raw spot of his bottom plump lip promptly.

"Where's she? She's been missing from Briarcliff for a few weeks and you don't have any idea how big chaos is whirling and twirling lately due to the occurance of-"

"I really can't tell you, Monsignor!" Suddenly the older gentleman maneuvered his balled fists to push Oliver roughly against the wall with his entire strength while Timothy scurried rabidly rapid inside the psychotic doctor's property to rummage for any trace of the missing young woman until he opened widely, carelessly opened the basement's rusty, iron door and squinting up in the corner of his stare the unconscious young woman as his heart raced perkily hysterical.

"Oh no! No!" Dashing hastily to descend the stairs and to scoop up the motionless, senseless body in his protective, altruistically affectionate embrace thoughtlessly, impulsively to flee the psychiatrist's property before it was too late, unable to catch his own breathing during his dynamic journey of his quest, the young woman hasn't motioned any single fleshy muscle. "Nancy! I really need to drive you to the hospital before this psychotic bastard has finished either you or me."

Without a second thought and without an ado, the British aristocrat zinged thoughtlessly megawatt from the basement after ascending promptly the stairs and overlooking the antagonistic attitude of Oliver and laying the immobile body of the atheist on the passenger seat of his jet-black vehicle and then hopping up inside by locking themselves before Oliver finds any methods to break inside.

Within a few moments, the car's monotonously lifeless engine commenced humming and the holy priest's hands manipulated to work on the steering wheel, pulling out the vehicle towards the impending destination. The Hospital!

**Author's Final Note: What are your genuine thoughts on the trilogy? I would be truly happy if you enjoyed and liked it. It's my first time writing about Oliver and I'm slightly nervous about his portrayal, in fact, it's not the same as much as with Timothy for example. I solemnly promise I'll deliver out more Oliver one-shots or stories to satisfy y'all! Sending you ginormous love!**


	34. Tasting The Affliction In One Bite

**Author's Note: That's the sequel of the trilogy one-shot under the name Sweet But Psycho which will include solely Timothy and Nancy my female OC. Moreover, Oliver is going to be solely mentioned! Keep in mind this one-shot will be short but sweet. **

Trigger Warning for Mentions of Drugs and Strong Language

\- ***** **-  
\- A Few Hours Later or So -

A few hours after the knight in his shining armor dragged the missing patient out of the psychotic psychiatrist's lair or on the contrary Timothy sacrificing not only his life, but also each pounding ounce of his functioning anatomy, subsequently he didn't have any intentions of fleeing the grandiose medical facility where Nancy was transported momentarily.

A few hours of subtlety afflictive doldrum suffocated the very hospital room's lifelessly fern green walls except for the incessantly humming heart monitor indicating the senseless patient's sluggishly rabid heart pulsations melded with the leveled out megawatt escalation. The hours uneasily ticked. A handful of doctors revisited the site often to incessantly check on Nancy and observe the mild progress of her recovery even if it has been a few hours since she has been temporarily housed inside the facility.

As soon as the hospital room fiercely vacated by the dozens of fleet doctors and nurses' visits with their very presences ghostwriting the artificially lit site except for the aspiring Monsignor accompanying the senseless atheist, the cusp between the heavenly hallowed life and the infernally unholy demise was an iron-willed strifle for the atheist, herself.

Timothy's blood boiled vehemently, whereas his flimsy heart minced unceasing on thousand of frail glassy fragments and deluging his ribcage at the thought of the senseless condition of the young woman. Unlike the medley of heartbreak's gears and amplifying the vigorous heart pulses thudding into his ribcage after sinking sinisterly abysmal, relentlessly in the hazily timeless, invincibly dingy ocean of despondency, a flat line flattened his upper and lower lusciously plumpish lips and vastly obfuscating any wee inkling of sheer, sunny felicity to darken his charming facial attributes. Every healthily luster colour painting the holy priest's façade petered out and replaced balefully with pasty blanched mask dolling up his profile underneath its translucently extravagant thin, blanched veil of the rabid madness inscribing his lower eyelids and light-heavy wrinkles. The scintillating saturation of radiance and marvelous charisma alienated from the cocoa brown gemstones and superseding its infectiously brass venomistic, invincible pallid nuances of the nemesis.

The inevitable nemesis. Nemesis's soar flavor laced the British aristocrat's dry, berry-coloured tongue. It could be interpreted in a couple of exemplar versions for abundance of people with different perspectives. In his case, it was rather the nemesis for Briarcliff and himself how the once temporarily hired young psychiatrist in the old, dilapidating mental hospital could be capable of not only illegimitately abducting one of the most guiltless patients, but also dopping her to lose drastically consciousness until her eyelids wrenched shut in the form of twin chubby slits preventing her vision to inform her for her recent surroundings and her muscles asphyxiated to function and contract them.

In spite of Timothy has never had any problems with Oliver during their eventual partnership in the exorcism of the young man Jed Potter, anyway it was never too late for detection of the cryptic secrets and mysteriousness unspeakable intentions of the psychiatrist. Everybody had their own secrets and mysteriousness obscuring even the wee inkling of wicked suspiciousness to doll them up.

The man of the cloth has never believed in the violence and the radical methods of eliminating the foes even in the most afflictive way, howsoever, he didn't have any choice except to collect more information behind Nancy becoming the recent victim of Oliver's mystic temptation interpreted in his gentlemanly politeness and graceful intelligence that could allure sea of ladies and permeate their oral slits instantly and magnifying the great deal of damage in their fleet happiness until they acknowledge the real face of the juvenile doctor. He's the real Bloody face.

In a long minute of the heart monitor's lull melding with the hitched breathing of the older gentleman, meantime, his colossal, masculinely veiny hand slipped sloppily, clumsily gentle to ghost the young woman's unamusingly frigid, well-sculptured cheek and his brittle digits and fingertips gingerly, gentlemanly tracing her well-carved, satin cheekbone, admiring the crispy curve of her facial anatomy.

"I'm really sorry for my irresponsibility, Nancy!" Reciting in a mumble, his British lilt punctured his honey-mouthed, boyish bashful apology under his breath whilst his bottom pale-pinkish cherub lip twitched to drip the impending despondent ministration he manifested to duck his head, inching against the young lady's emotionless, unnaturally pallid complexion paired with her halo ringlet of disheveled, greasy iris locks curtaining sleekly, graciously the outstandingly discrete details which he hasn't behold imprinted onto her profile. The dark circles prominently, hypodermically crept underneath her lower eyelids, formulating her lacking and skimpy sleep she's collecting throughout the days. The wee hints of light-heavy wrinkles blossoming eagerly, rapidly rabid across her authentically gorgeous facial features that once wore its youth, natural beauty. She was still beautiful even if she's drifted off asleep. A few wrinkles couldn't compensate the ethereal endless grace of Nancy. "It's my fault I wasn't aware of the early events of your disappearance," All of a sudden, the Satanist came to her senses and wrenching widely opened her eyelids.

"Huh?" Sheepish, bewilderingly groggy grunt escaped her chapped, roseate mouth whilst registering to fashion into balled fists her petite, femininely marbled hands to rub her amber huge, round minerals pensively, while the British compatriot maneuvered his only free colossal, alabaster hand to muffle the cough process of clearing casually his throat. "M-Monsignor," Shortly before the satanist's ominously headstrong attempts to sort her mind and assimilating the whole process of her hospital's transportation and her eventual knight in the shining armor seating on the edge of her patient bed as the ambitious Monsignor withdrew mildly his façade from hers.

"Nancy, I'm glad you're still alive," Dawdling his pristinely delicate fingertips to cradle her well-carved, frigid cheek beneath his flabbergastingly warm, soothing fingertips and pads of his fingers, while registering to struggle to offer her a deftly vague, benevolently beaming smile spreading across his mouth. The attractively tangy cologne of the British compatriot tickled mischievously the younger lady's flexible nostrils though she didn't respond to his kindhearted smile than with a lethally low-spirited, indisputably sooty frown curving upon her naturally rosy-coloured, chapped lips. Everything seemed vague, foggy mounting the patient's visual horizon. Explicitly graphic, brutally venomous images of her former love interest who once wore the knight in the shining armor title was her Achilles' Heel until he exposed himself in front of her about his little hobby with skinning women's corpses, in order to incise and craft furnitures with their fleshy, frosty skin along with his mask. "And you're awake. Thank God!" What it mostly minced the young woman's heart was contemplating through the thin veil of doe misery and obscured megawatt lividness of the older man, whereas struggling to survey in a studious, precise scrutiny his handsome, youthful face. The holy man's chocolate brown jewels inginited the very flames of his tearful heartbreak and genuine sorrow to acknowledge that the atheist was one of Oliver's captives.

"How I established there?"

"After I searched the places where you could be possibly found after your mysterious disappearance from that snake pit," Seconds before the jadedly heavy sigh to bubble up elegantly from the clergyman's toned, muscly chest, subsequently his virginally feather-soft, promising fingers invitingly slipped down to her earlobe and tucking gracefully a fistful of disheveled, heinously rebellious greasy strands behind her petite, vulnerable ear. Furthermore, what the aspiring Monsignor despised about the madhouse was not only the bleakly gloomy, dark ambience clouding the staff members and the loonies, but also he didn't have any intentions of returning ever again even though his doubtlessly potent chemistry he shared with the head nun of the mental hospital and Sister Jude's daughter figure, Sister Mary Eunice. "I didn't find any tangible trace of you with exception the last thing that came to my mind to check in as place was Oliver's lair." In the meanwhile, the atheist slammed her front pearly, filthy-greased teeth to stifle any noises slipping sloppily clumsy from her oral caverns, while manipulating the teeth's edges to gnaw at her bottom cracked lip, being all ears to her savior's silver-tongued monologue.

"Don't tell me you will bring me back in that hellhole," Struggling to swig greedily playful the thickness constricting her feminine Adam's apple, suddenly the subtle nimbleness of Timothy manipulated his lips to purse pensively, spontaneously. "I didn't have other choice rather than accepting gladly Dr. Thredson's suggestion to flee with him! I didn't want to go insane like the others. Briarcliff is a hell place on the earth."

"I won't send you back in that snake pit, don't worry, Nancy! Tell me more about what he did to you!" The starkly insisiting undertone remarkably excising his eagerness to acknowledge Nancy's life behind the scenes in the past few weeks tingled alarming tones into her ears.

"I really used to be familiar with his kindness and gentleness. He used to be that sweet and gentle one of a kind doctor that he got me out of that hellhole where the least I deserved to stay. But everything changed one day," The haphazardness of the hoarse pause suffocated fleetly the hospital room's lifelessly fern green walls with tempest of stormy numbness, uncomfortable frigidness coating subtly the contrasting ambience of the very presence of Timothy settling in the very space of their maintenance of proximity. "Once his little hobby leaked thanks to him that he crafts furniture with women's skin and keeping me in the basement without even giving me a chance to have a bit interaction with the daylight sun, everything turned downward. I didn't even know what day it was except for the breakfasts and dinner meals he brought me in the basement and he treated me like a prisoner that's solely capable of eating and breathing."

"Oh!" Managing a docilely intelligible bob of his head to reaffirm her façade's position to grace the priest with the sequel to her dramatically cold-blooded, heartbreaking monologue, twin fat tears leaked its thin stream of rivulets onto Nancy's lower eyelids, refraining from sobbing.

"No wonder why my skin got paler and that was undeniably unhealthy! In addition to he also dopes me every night, in order to have a full good night sleep." The series of unconditionally cold-blooded, dry stutters sailing out of her tongue after conjugating the beehive of ferocious vowels and syllables to construct her forthcoming utterances that steamrolled into stutters instead, meanwhile, the clergyman's fingers daubed gently, nevertheless, dexterously the thin stream of tears gushing down her cheeks. "He used a specific drug to sedate me."

"My God! That son of a bitch," Ferociously antagonistic adrenaline coursed through Timothy's very veins and muscles while assimilating entirely the satanist's truthful monologue of her own perspective about the absolute reality behind the benevolently quiet, secretive psychiatrist that was well-known for his inhumane homicides of representatives of the opposite sex. "I'm genuinely sorry to hear all that, darling! I'll try my best to get that bastard jailed out before hurting another lady like you." Leaning down to press a tenderly mellow, heartwarming peck to her right cheek to bedaub the crystalline tear, then he lifted up his hand to perch on her scalp and soothingly feather-soft to stroke her long mop of purple tresses. "I'll try my best to give him the punishment he genuinely deserves, my rare bird."

**Author's Final Note: If you have liked and enjoyed this short work, subsequently would you like me to write a book with Nancy and Oliver and Timothy which will be like the full version to the trilogy one-shots Sweet But Psycho along with this one? I'd like to hear your thoughts, because I'm headstrongly hesitating. **


	35. Psychosocial OLIVER THREDSON

**Author's Note: Keep in mind that one-shot is utterly Oliver Thredson one and it is slightly different, besides it is utterly inspired of Slipknot's song Psychosocial! Furthermore, if you aren't a fan of Oliver, then this one-shot isn't for you at all. It is a wee prompt where Oliver is younger and he is a medical student.**

**_Trigger Warnings for _****?****_Necrophilia, Strong Language and Masturbation_****?**

One of the medical university's exams stormy waves surfed against the timeline where the medical students have the ultimate boldness, stark discipline and utter focus accentuated on the corpses' autopsy. Everything was part of their indubitably inexorable preparation for future doctors once dashing out of the university's coherent façade and freely artistic practicing their dream job as well. Oliver wasn't the exceptional candidate to be midst the huge mass of young men and women coveting to learn each segment avidly from the medical sphere and inexorably iron-willed attempting to save the other living beings' precious lives.

Or rather the medical education in his case would be interpreted in diversity of versions what were his eventually bare, hair-rising intentions?

As an orphan who has being forsaken by his own biological mother and being reared in the scanty, sinisterly unthinkable orphanage as his sole home robbing him from the lifestyle of the despodently homeless youngsters wandering the Boston's outskirts, the unthinkably eerie complex's unremittingly unceasing development of yearning for the unconditional love and cordial warmness of his mother transmuted into something else or rather in more intoxicatingly mortifying dilemma for the young man.

From the desperate orphan with the tough childhood tantalized with galore of unimaginably intoxicating dreams for the future into the future doctor whose doubtlessly cryptic intentions would drastically escalate to alter his character and the persona's outer and inner layer donning up smartly to obscure his train of thoughts that are capable of wickedly exuding its luxuriously dense waterfall of unspeakable twists swirling and twirling the very wavelets curling in the misty hollow. Nobody could even detect a tiny ounce of the young gentleman's train of thoughts' chaotically emphatic fertilize and fueling the absolute reality with its aftermaths of his fiercely bare boldness gloving his hands entirely as the fabric's seamlessness contacted his bare flesh.

Just a few hours after gathering with his classmates and sneaking out enigmatically surreptitious from the site where he would keep in touch with them even if the orphan, himself, wasn't a keen fan of wearing the ordinary nickname social butterfly and interacting with his own peers that could hardly comprehend his very motives and arouse his interest to stubbornly corroding his colloquy with them that awarded him a merely bland small talk, thus his large-frame ghosted the university's hallway and tiptoeing inside the private clinic's site that was located underground without shadow of a doubt.

Oliver couldn't any longer tolerate the very thought of even setting foot inside a room where he was outnumbered by a huge mass of peers that were hardly thinking alike him and could contemplate through the translucently pale thin veil of his cryptic persona mantled-clad parchment façade. He couldn't even unavoidably picture any reverie scenario once he dwells fleetly in the dream realm's vividly explicit scenarios jumpcutting of his naturally baby-pinkish, cherubically angelic lips curling at every rationally formed sentence enveloped in its rich ocean of vowels and syllables etching exquisitely the words sloppily foaming his fashionably sharp jaw.

Any interaction the young gentleman could formatte clumsily wouldn't even endure a single second of switching the roles with another participant into a third wheel abruptly was unimaginably afflictive and sorely impossible to even handle a brief colloquy with either of his classmates.

Once the private clinic's zone lightbulb momentarily filtered the entire site in its artificially celestial gilded light infectively quenching each outskirt and illuminating fashionably even the darkest segments the university's secret place, accompanying the hitched breathing of the juvenile doctor whose oxford-clad feet bedaubed recklessly resilient, villainously sly the concrete floor and elaborating its spate of monotonously drumming footsteps ghosting to the recent destination at last. The sole humdrum ballad has suffocated the coherently secure walls of the room with its dozens of conjugated smacks of slaps against the barriers' unremittingly invincible armor.

The absolutely realistic illustration of the teal ambulance bed motionlessly denizening in the middle of the sufficiently expansive location, whereas the corpse of a young woman in her mid-twenties bone-chillingly sawddled warmly in its conveniently shapeless, flabbergastingly creamy duvet deterring the apparent nude frame to shimmer against the orphan's pools of abysmally glassy cinnamon brown. The tenderly motionless, seamlessly glossy curves and vulnerable flesh armoring her bone structure unavoidably sharp's contour highlighted her corpse.

In the meantime, the juvenile medico manifested to approach gradually the immobile dead body and examining in a scrutiny in the corner of his huge, rotund cinnamon brown optic, kindling its very flares of his fiercely childlike inquisitiveness and luscious avidity inundating his diabolically lewd gaze. Heartily swilling every ounce of the ghostly pale exposed skin to his starkly ferocious, ironically innocouously predatory coffee brown optics scanning the sole hair-rising exposure of the young lady's dead body, thus a jadedly heavy sigh expelled from his brittle lungs. An eerie flat line decorated uniquely the orphan's alabaster, refreshingly youthful profile.

His masculinely mammoth, incredibly smooth hands unamusingly trembled subconsciously blood-curdling until one of his hands altruistically curious slithered to reach for the sheerly oyster-white, heavenly angelic duvet and slowly but surely unwrapping it until the soft fabric peeled off the petite-frame's nubile nudity strangely gorgeous mantled in its pale curtain smartly saturating the femininely creamy, milky epidermis of the woman's tensely motionless muscles and her naturally mauve nipples toppling the soft fat of her bosom bonded with the kinky thick, dark hairy wire pebbling her lethally dry folds between her legs.

The desperately severe constricting of his erection significantly escalated and meagerly hitching his breathing surging its ethereally contagious brook squandering its refreshingly rusty, heavy oxygen against his lungs and bleated snorts through his tiny, flexible nostrils. The perpetual broadening process of his oral slit's straight line into a beamingly complacent, indisputably vindictive smirk curving upon his nude lips at the explicitly graphic prospect. Luminously lustful twinkles waltzed into the young man's cocoa brown minerals whilst warily examining in a scrutiny the corpse of the young woman as his ogle's initial destination landed on her lion mane of greasily old Hollywood chestnut locks curtaining gracefully her unhealthily pallid, yet young-looking face slithering fiendishly unceasing to her average sized breasts until they impaled her bare, fiendishly frigid feet.

"Oh God, Mommy!" A couple of vowels and syllables insistingly breathless's clash sequenced to the purr's construction diminishing its decibels greatly whisking with his hitched breathing and the severely vehement, jovial heart pulses' demonical thumps into his toned, muscular chest promptly, whereas his mouth timidly quivered in his sheepishly sultry, masculinely deep purr. "You're so beautiful!" At the moment, the Bostonian's colossal, amusingly warm trembling hand glided to cup in the palm of his hand the unknown lady's unsurprisingly lukewarm, transgressively chubby cheek, admiring her crisply ethereal grace embroidering her beyond peacefully majestic facial attributes.

In a long minute of sluggishly deft trail of her cheek and slipping his pristinely delicate, orthodoxy soothing fingertips inspecting the swan curve of her well-sculptured cheekbone, thereafter vigilantly subtle skidding to her dainty chin, escorting meekly the very curve of her milky, cozily feather-soft expanse and fingertips bedaubing to her frail sternum. The Bostonian's solely free hand fingers worked on the mission of obdurately undoing the stubbornly dull buttons of his shirt until the process escalated to leak his muscly, hairy torso to the starkly scintillating artificlal illumination enveloping him benevolently comfortable. Once the ordinary oyster-white shirt clumsily peeled off Oliver's arms and discarding it bluntly ruthless on the edge of the ambulance bed, throughout his long, slim fingers clawed gently the brunette's docilely soft breast in the palm of his hand, whereas his other hand worked on unzipping his pair of jet-black trousers' zip to insert his tissues to manipulate its mischievous tease of his erected shaft spotlighting his boxers and leaning down as his naturally pale-pinkish, deliciously plumpish lips wrapped around the other breast's plum nipple suckling on its tender skin of her outer ring.

"Holy fuck, dear mommy!" Meowing a blatantly impulsive, fiercely fervent under his breath, the boldness of his tissues' sheer manipulation gearing his shaft's hardness in its firmly teasing grasp, consequently his only free mammoth, creamy hand's fingers managed to skid to her dry folds and plugging a couple of fingers at her entrance shortly after ghostwriting his pristinely gentle, youthfully dexterous fingers impressively the very curves of her torso and her lower abdomen, admiring her freshly enthralling anatomy even for a former mortal. "You are driving me immensely crazy, aren't you?" Meantime, mild precum coyly soaked the medico as the relentlessly vigorous motion of thrusting in and out his other hand's tissues vindictively bloodthirsty, hedonistically of the dead body's slit accompanying the series of barbarously blatant, sweet coos seething his Adam's apple. "That gorgeous, dry pussy of yours is still craving for anybody's touch, in spite of for final time!" His bottom plumpish lip twitched at the lustfully fervent grunt accompanying the hideously diabolical postpone of his breathy, monstrously reckless groans and moans escaping his pretty healthy, restless chest.

The haphazardness of the farther foreign background noise of bluntly distinctive chats pitching the university's hallway and stairway to the underground floor caught off guard the juvenile gentleman and despondently temerariously retrieving the solely discarded attire of his casual outfit, whilst his other hand's tissues immediately slipped out of the brunette's slit and suckling on the barren flavor marvelously coating his fingertips once he readjusted his posture in general.

"And yet Mr. Drake sends us for an unknown reason to research the private clinic room instead of minding our business to supervise the façade's exterior, you know!" Sinisterly distinctive's hoarseness punctured one of the security guards' half-hearted utterance on the mission in the company of his long-time business partner to research the targeted location.

"Holy shit!" All of a sudden, the future doctor registered to venture up inside the grandiosely lacquered wardrobe overcrowded with galore of neat lily-white, baby blue and baby green doctor aprons to enshroud his figure from the forthcoming uninviting visitants in the enigmatic lair of the university whose chats approached coherently the location in no time. Once the wardrobe's doors were completely shut, Oliver strangely fit inside the large furniture sheltering him fleetly to not being caught in trouble and his fingers channelized to button each stubborn, tiny button up to his ghostly pale neck eventually, stifling the various medley of noises that might put him in the ginormous trouble rumbling up to freeze his blood out of the blue.

The desires could be interpreted in variety of versions. The purely rational alternatives formatting the desire's true notion could be assimilated and fathomed differently, depending on every outstanding one of a kind's perspective. They could be pretty often amenably forbidden or on the contrary not extremely bizarre at all. The most forbidden desires rousing the life of the insatiable lust to yearn to savor the very juices of the forbidden fruit tantalized every owner's hurricane of thoughts and they could be solely envisioned scintillatingly dazzling as the most inebriatingly wild reverie stinging the frequent function of their cells and blood.

**Author's Final Note: I know this one-shot was wonderfully twisted and disturbing for certain quantity of the audience, nevertheless, I hope you liked and enjoyed it! If you have candidly enjoyed and liked it, don't forget to leave a feedback! I'll genuinely appreciate it! :))**


	36. S Is For A Sin FEMALE OC X FRED W

**Author's Note: That's another one-shot with Fred Waterford who is my favorite character from the Handmaid's tale with June! Furthermore, I know I'm flooding my one-shots and imagines with Fred, howsoever, I'm opting to experiment with something different!**

**I am wishing you a blissful reading journey! :))**

**_Trigger Warnings for _****?****_Strong Language, Fingering and Sexual Content_****?**

School days could emulate to the inexorably brass valley of the diabolical highlands towering the very prospect with its tremendous doze of homework, stress and the idle sulfur lake that engulfed its own preys, the exceptions equated even to the bloodthirstily wicked preys that have embraced with open arms the disastrous Gehenna swaddling sardonically cozy them. Katherine wasn't midst the exceptions at all. Or rather, dolled inescapably up in the invisible rigid attires of deriving the inaction to accompany her hedonism of every advancing second, every advancing minute, each advancing hour behind the coherently isolating walls of the public school she regularly attended. The very walls isolating the outer world of the nobodies who populated purposefully the grandiose façade's.

School wasn't amidst her favorite institutions to visit regularly even when she had a handful of true blue friends that accompanied her and didn't cease to dumbfound her with its bewitchingly enticing hex of the hastiness of the slapping hours and petering out the sulfur boredom that inevitably binded every adolescent that has set foot inside the school. Notwithstanding the circumstances, even if it was her final year in high school and having a different History teacher that delightfully flabbergasted her and certain students that were took into the bare hands of Mister Waterford. The former History teacher that spent a few years of his opulently down-to-earth career to teach Katherine and her classmates and a few hundreds of high schoolers as well, everything altered momentarily in the beginning of the final year of high school.

The indubitably great deal of difference Mr. Waterford and Mr. Simpson could be interpreted in a couple of pages essay foliating the real motives to format the purely impressive its bedaubed ink etching each word that has ornamented the blank. Mr. Simpson was another indisputably stringent teacher like certain that have ambitiously slavering its vermillion monumental cataract to wedge remarkably his strictness and raw discipline during his classes.

Notwithstanding the former History teacher's strictness, Fred wasn't as old as Kenneth even though his starkly stringent discipline contagiously permeate its venomously vermillion plague in each class he was attending to stage each new lesson out and narrating the eminent topics. Their age gap gauged its sufficiently discrete two of kind dissimiliar methods of disciplining the future generations of young adults. Further, the middle-aged gentleman manifested to be rather the vividly vibrant eye candy that forcefully ornamented the canvas of the classroom during his History classes with Katherine and each young lady whose naturally roseate, insatiably cherub lips' glossiness glimmered with the brillisntly luminous rivulet of drool pronging the raw spot.

During the History classes and when the eerily nonchalant, nevertheless, intensifyingly authoritative undertones tinged authentically amenable the middle-aged gentleman's declaims tingling angelic anthems into their ears, sea of twains of gemstones were transfixed bloodthirstily lustful, innocuously surreptitious on the larger frame that slowly but surely wandered the site as his formal, unblemished oxfords managed to restlessly blunt ghosting the wooden planked floor and conjugating its dozens of inevitable whispers taunting the nefarious creak.

"The earliest recorded use of the term "Industrial Revolution" seems to have been in a letter from 6 July 1799 written by French envoy Louis-Guillaume Otto, announcing that France had entered the race to industrialise." The haphazardness of stringently raspy tone majestically fabulous waltzing to suffuse the middle-aged gentleman's declaim, whilst the monotonously restless, blunt whispers of his oxfords ghosting the room's wooden planked floor as his pools of abysmally straightforward chocolate brown landed on every student to survey in a scrutiny assimilating their current activities during History class. His pools of austere chocolate brown interpreted visually every student's utter focus either on the new lesson or otherwise distracting themselves with something else. "In his 1976 book Keywords: A Vocabulary of Culture and Society, Raymond Williams states in the entry for "Industry": "The idea of a new social order based on major industrial change was clear in Southey and Owen, between 1811 and 1818, and was implicit as early as Blake in the early 1790s and Wordsworth at the turn of the 19th century." Reciting in a lukewarmly austere declaim the History class about the First Industrial Revolution, meantime, the young lady registered to worry her bottom nude lip between her front pearly-white teeth nibbling the raw spot once his coffee brown big, rotund depths speared severely luminous, contaminating its kindle of the very flares of his rhythmically vigorous dance of lust, unconditional desire and tremendous strictness formatting the exquisitely outstanding medley.

The majority of Katherine's classmates propped their faces under the palm of their creamy hands, whose pristinely smooth fingers scarcely motioned, coupled meekly with their eerie flat line blurring each pattern of passionately fiery enthusiasm surging through their dull gazes and curling at the corner of their nude lip and whether shooting fleet glances or transfixing her glassy jewels to spear Fred's large frame. Unlike the majority of her own peers, her sole distraction during one of her least favorite classes was eventually dancing one of her virginally elvish hands' bony fingers around the pen, whilst her other hand's tissues meaningfully authentic jotted down mere doodles in her History's notebook that seriously emulated to the true epitome of her lacking interest in the recent class's today lesson and most of all, the school subject, itself.

The prominently violet ink of the pen's daub against the flimsy fabric of the notebook's page inscribed the smiley faces and hearts staining the lily-white's blank until the hitched breathing of the young lady trashed against her discretely frail lungs and the rabidly rapid amplification of her heart pulses thudding into her chest, whereas sensing the very presence of the teacher approaching slowly but surely gracious her desk where she didn't share a seat with either of her classmates.

"Oh goodness! I strongly pray he doesn't even take a look into my notebook and its stupid drabbles." Emitting a docilely demure, girlishly solemn murmur almost dying on her tongue that ultimately imitated a solemnly sacred prayer to guard her from any eventual rueful woes, while a humbly emboldening claw of her dainty shoulder emanating from the teacher's masculinely colossal, marbled hand perched on her tissue and halting his refreshingly nonchalant expedition to wander sluggishly the classroom, fixating his utter focus on Katherine who was midst the sole youngsters that were doing something else than just eavesdropping and taking notes about the important History lesson as well. "M-Mister Waterford!" Struggling to elaborate its heavy stutter foaming her dainty jaw, Katherine managed to slam shut the notebook's page, whereas lingering its grip of the pen with a handful of fingers and altering her stance to caught-off-guard eventually and lethally endemic blush powdering her porcelain, young-looking complexion instantaneously. An elegantly coy, apocalyptically weak smile bloomed upon her naturally rosy-coloured, angelically cherub lips. Intoxicatingly icy shivers paradoxally trashed into the young woman's spine momentarily at the discretely inebriating, enthrallingly enticing touch grazing gingerly her shoulder blade.

"I wasn't expecting you to draw childish doodles in your notebooks at all, Kathy!" Suddenly the Historian's masculinely potent, bewitchingly feather-soft fingers channelized to toy eerily gently with the youngster's fabric of her baby green shirt's sleeve, admiring the crispy dainty bone structure and the soft fabric megawatt bond, while opulent sea of teenagers' twain of jewels fixated on the recent target. Her classmate who was recently caught ruefully by the middle-aged man to do nothing else during History class except crooking her fingers around the pen and scribbling lazily reckless on the sheet of paper. Childlike embarrassment efficiently phenomenal, vastly clouded the redhead whose diamond huge, roundish embers glazed Fred's coffee brown ethereally timeless as if the time has halted at last. "I can't believe on my eyes what are you doing during my classes instead you are out of lunch."

"I'm sincerely sorry, Mister Waterford! I'm also listening." The unamusingly lukewarmness puncturing the awkward student's mousy apology almost dying on her tongue tip's fat to formulate her childishly dull excuse to not being caught in trouble and blood-curdlingly unthinkable, indubitably obdurate to be awarded sardonically with its frigidly relentless tribulations rumbling up to blight her slowly but surely.

"You don't seem on fire about the recent class which will be included in the future test within a week or so." The sardonic ruefulness prominently emulsioning Fred's smug grin spread across his baby-pinkish, lusciously plumpish mouth stung Katherine's diamond depths abruptly. "So that's why forget about sidetracking yourself with such stuff I would rather expect in elementary school students rather than collegians like you." At the moment, the educator's mammoth hand vehemently swift yanked the compact entity from the ginger's desk and strolled up back to his working cherrywood bureau as his orthodoxy strong, long fingers worked on spreading the notebook's pages and examining in a scrutiny in the corner of his fiercely studious eye each discreet detail illustrated on the sheets of paper fashionably until the middle-aged gentleman's gaze pronged one of the blanks' text that ultimately engulfed its hopelessly inexorable accent sharpening drastically gradual.

Thickness hypodermically tranced to coat the juvenile woman's feminine Adam apple at the prospect of her favorite teacher stinging its megawattly intensifying pause of the First Industrial Revolution and his starkly cocksure nature streaming through his facial expressions highlighting his ethereally graceful facial features. Under her classmates and Fred's piercing stares, she felt so small, so weak and so amenable when her immensely cryptic secret leaked at last.

**Sensing his angelically plump, pink lips sealed with me into a hardening, sensual kiss I haven't even imagined to share with him. Oh God! What about the heavenly softness of his lips contacting mine during the intensifying escalation whilst I was tugging his dark hair playfully and encouraging his large, strong hands clawing predatory my hips and grazing my inner thighs as if he admired the seamless softness of the most flawless fabric gliding beneath his fingers?**

**I can't even catch my breathing for a split second. I felt like I was dreaming instead of dawdling my mind to the absolute reality where it would be impossible to get kissed by my favorite teacher who's married and probably has children with his wife. It would be unimaginable to have a bright future with somebody who has already children and they wouldn't like me as much as their biological mother.**

"Uh-huh!" Clearing his throat gruffly as he muffled graciously with the palm of his colossal, milky hand the bleated blatantly blunt, cold-heartedly dry cough dripping from his pink mouth, whereas the ginger pawed gently her oral slit and her bony tissues confining the extravagantly cheesy, infectious smirk sprawling across her face at the vista of her favorite teacher finally fathoming the genuine secretive nature of hers that obscured its wee, enigmatically discrete details from her impure thoughts of a married middle-aged man who was an educator on a stringently grave school discipline that didn't have abundance of devotees at all. "Here we are, Miss Kathy!" Muffling a despondently awkward, childlikely innocuous giggle escaping her oral slit, bearing a semblance of a deer leaking against the scintillating headlights brightly sweeping its casted light on the wild animal in the middle of the night, she scarcely constricted her throat muscles to conjugate its swig of the soar lump seething vigorously nonetheless. "Sensing his angelically plump, pink lips sealed with me into a hardening, sensual kiss I haven't even imagined to share with him. Oh God! What about the heavenly softness of his lips contacting mine during the intensifying escalation whilst I was tugging his dark hair playfully and encouraging his large, strong hands clawing predatory my hips and grazing my inner thighs as if he admired the seamless softness of the most flawless fabric gliding beneath his fingers?" Sheer irony darkened the educator's half-hearted peruse, whilst his fingertips grappled tightly, warily the page and supporting its meager weight to not vulnerably flip at all.

"Oh God! He really exposed me!"

"I can't even catch my breathing for a split second. I felt like I was dreaming instead of dawdling my mind to the absolute reality where it would be impossible to get kissed by my favorite teacher who's married and probably has children with his wife. It would be unimaginable to have a bright future with somebody who has already children and they wouldn't like me as much as their biological mother."

"Just look at that poor doe deer!" Manifesting a few pointed forefingers precisely at the redhead, their tongue tips crafted the mockingly sardonic wail followed by healthily guttural, spine-chillingly afflictive snickers pitching the site.

"What would you do, Miss Kathy? Separate me from my wife and soil my reputation?"

"You know that I'm listening during your classes and that isn't a stuff to be taken seriously on that paper."

"Ah, yes! I have read so similar stuff by my other female students that have the audacity to pour their vivid imagination into baloney that tantalizes them. It's such a shame your lukewarmness outweighs your potential success." Then he discarded the notebook on top of the cherrywood bureau ruthlessly and manipulating his rear to perch accompanying the miniature entity, while a breathily strict, crudely boyish chuckle wickedly spouting his jaw.

\- _A Half an Hour Later or So_ -

"Don't forget the next time a few people will be on the podium to determine their marks since they don't have enough marks unlike certain candidates whose names are already known!" As soon as the bell severely wicked droned to impale the very walls of the school's long halls, keeping the wits to the teachers and the young adults about the epilogue of their recent class and jumpcutting to the brief break, thereafter the huge mass of young adults managed to retrieve their books and tossing them inside their bags shortly before dashing out of the site at last.

In the interim, Katherine modestly put back her History book in her school bag and her long, bony fingers working on zipping until it entirely confined the larger entity, consequently joining the sufficiently big assemble of peers on her mission to flee without an ado until the middle-aged man's hair-risingly unavoidable stare fiddled her obdurately, catching a glimpse of her fleetly unpromising glance for a split second as she sensed the hazardous dilemma. Once her azure blue cabochons imbibed even an ounce of his parchment, still youthful façade and hazardously lunged into his cinnamon brown cabochons, the escape was doubtlessly impossible. Infernal lust, crystalline desire and unconditional love dangerously illumed his pools of deep coffee brown.

"Goodbye, Mister Waterford! Have a nice day!" Once Katherine's petite, creamy hand perched on top of the furniture to retrieve her History notebook and offering an angelically sympathetic, pearly innocuous smile flourishing dearly past her mouth, meanwhile, the teacher's larger, protective hand pawed categorically stubborn and depriving her entire freedom to weigh off the scales of their physical stamina and strength as well. "Mister Waterford?"

"Kathy, don't be that fast!"

"I just want my notebook back. I solemnly promise I'll take serious notes from now on instead of doodling stupid stuff that you call it." The healthily cherry powder dawdled to smear hypodermically across her well-sculptured, chubby cheeks whilst maintaining a stable, adequate eye contact with the educator and scarcely sweeping off her sympathetic smile tattooed on her marbled façade.

"N-No!" The appealing hoarseness of the educator's crudely cold-blooded reply didn't vanish into the thin air as the last visitant amidst the collegians slammed shut the door on their mission to the forthcoming destination, managing to shake his head in solemn disagreement as he readjusted his seating posture perkily inviting. "Come on, honey!" Ushering emboldeningly sensual the young lady to sit on top of him as his meaty, megawatt forefinger motioned restlessly strong-willed, part of Fred's dilemma to play his own cards right. "Everything is going to be good!"

Oscillation hardly inundated the student's vortex of thoughts until she marched towards her favorite teacher and channelized her rear to conveniently welcoming, promising roost on his lap until a pair of masculinely dexterous, predatory hands grappled her slim waist as she straddled him. The inebriatingly breathtaking warm breath lightly fanned the nape of the ginger's palish expanse whilst his thigh invicibly headstrong chimed the collegian to not move any single muscle as one of his hands' long, slim fingers reached for her shirt's stubborn, bland buttons to unbutton them eventually.

"Fucking God, Kathy! You are so gorgeous, babydoll!" All of a sudden, the older gentleman's pearly white teeth commenced nibbling the silken flesh of her expanse and assaulting with dozens of intoxicatingly blatant, insatiable kisses, while she cocked back her head and her lungs perpetually asphyxiated apocalyptically fatal and flourishing its shallow valley of meager quantity of oxygen's new home, swaying her rear against the tight crotch of the Historian eventually. His other colossal, amusingly warm hand slithered down to trail discreetly attentive the very curve of the ginger's hips and then teasing mischievously vindictive her folds on circles unremittingly villainous. "Jesus Christ! You are so wet and that is dangerously evident, sweetheart! Isn't that for me?" A low hum in response bubbled up from the collegian's throat and pawing gingerly the middle-aged gentleman's claw on his mission to peel off savagely shameless the attire shielding her torso until it was carelessly discarded on the podium and slipping to cup her ordinary jet-black bra-clad breast and fiddling versatily the amenably smooth fabric underneath his satin touch.

"Holy shit!"

"Isn't that a fucking clear yes, my babydoll?" The sweltering heat built between the redhead's inner thighs and pubic area inevitably as if her favorite educator's sweet nothings and invitingly spellbinding coos hexed her invincibly powerful. The desperately sultry moans and groans outnumbered the agitated hitched breathing of the duo during the process of Fred stripping off every garment that hugged comfy the young woman's petite-frame and the chats pitching the building's corridors."I knew it so far that you are quite wet even for my touch."

"Daddy, I need you right now!" Stilling his milky teeth teasingly vile nipping at the tender skin of her palish neck and then sliding to trace with his berry-coloured, wet tongue tip her sternum until it peaked to one of her naturally plum, erected nipples and suckling on its hopelessly pliant skin gaping as his other hand worked on cupping the soft fat in the palm of his paw and continuously repetitive grinding her thighs against the unending mull of the bulge's stiff low-spiritedly coveting for its release from the cotton fabric of the lingerie's fender. "You are dumbfoundingly hard."

"I was thinking about everything you have written in that notebook," An unevenly dramatic pause scorched relentlessly the middle-aged man's strawberry-coloured tongue, whilst circulating to suckle the sensitive flesh of the hardened mauve nipple as the younger woman's virginally spidery, marbled fingers fabulously slithered to rake the short mop of dark strands neatly plastering his head in her grip. The heart pulses' mirthful acceleration synced the mischievously earnest flumps into their ribcages and the rawness of contracting shut her eyelids, Katherine candidly melted into her favorite professor's superbly celestial, merry touchs grazing her tender, amenably exposed flesh accompanying the rich crop of horripilation rippling her overall arms and legs. "And you made me think about what I'm actually missing!" The haphazardness of the deft lug of the figure atop Fred's and settling comfy Katherine to sit on the bureau didn't fail to dumbfound her at his unspeakably indestructible stamina and physical strength coursing through his searing veins. Little did she know about the dynamic roller coaster of her favorite teacher he's being riding for years behind the scenes of his wedlock with Serena.

Once the pairing's nude pink, plump lips crashed into a hardeningly steamy, ever-lasting kiss sealing their profiles hardly to inch one another, their eyelids contracted shut and utterly molting into the small bubble of their world's emphatic formation while the ginger registered to cup in the palms of her elvish, creamy hands his well-carved, chubby cheeks and then slipping sheepishly down to toy with the stubborn buttons of the middle-aged gentleman's charcoal gray shirt and undoing them gradually until they were fully unbuttoned. Notwithstanding the circumstances, when the kiss significantly escalated, throughout their tongues commenced dueling one another eagerly iron-willed for gilt domination until the older man's tongue won eventually and plugged inside and subsequently deepening the kiss into French, whereas Katherine was sluggishly discarding his garments and discarded them with her sprawled shirt at last.

The attires that hugged Katherine's petite-frame were here comfortable underwear and her short school skirt which were promptly yanked as her natural fender with the sufficiently big pile of garments. Straddling broadly her legs as she gave a better access to the professor to insert his erected manhood at her entrance whilst shamelessly predatory clawing her hips to stabilize his berserk stance and fueling her virginally guiltless core as the very walls contracted the shaft and attempting persistently to accommodate to the first bold warrior that has articulated his megawatt desire for somebody that could lose her virginity to him and that rendered the young woman feeling so special and so precious. Shortly before the initial, sorely painful thrusts' sychronisation, the couple exchanged enigmatically entincing ogles as the ginger maneuvered her angelically petite, ghostly pale hands to lacerate his broad, muscly shoulders for support.

"You are immensely handsome!"

"You are actually the beauty there."

When the professor managed the initial sorely afflictive thrusts throbbing in and out and lingering her crooked legs around his waist, the collegian struggled to buff its despondently fervernt groans and moans and subconsciously scraping the delicately milky flesh of his shoulders with her small fingernails until the thrusts escalated to less painful and graciously swift, besides arching her swan neck.

In the meanwhile, hideously luminous, brilliantly crystal sweat clung to their synchronizing naked bodies and one of Fred's mammoth, protective hands glided atop his favorite student's complexion and positioning his swan thumb to stifle her blatantly fervent whimpers as well, followed by twin fat crystalline tears streaming down the redhead's lower eyelids.

"Holy fuck! You are so tight, baby girl!"

"Daddy, I still want you!"

"Holy shit! I am guessing I will cum."

Within several of vehemently passionate thrusts and a luxurious cataract of mellifluously impulsive, fierce moans and groans pierced the room's very walls the couple's climaxes were approaching sooner than later and the middle-aged gentleman planting his marbled seed inside the collegian's core.

The intesifyingly megawatt sentiments the controversial duo traded with each other were far cry from barbarically tragic and woeful. They were one of a kind duo that might have a controversially nefarious reputation, due to the fact, they were exchanging a strong teacher-student relationship, although their age gap was impressively big and their relationship statuses were completely different.

**Author's Final Note: If you have genuinely enjoyed and liked this one-shot, don't forget to leave a feedback! Don't be shy! I would like to hear your very thoughts.**

**Furthermore, feel free to request me any one-shot what kind of a trope do you want me to write it, besides with what a fictional character/celebrity and paired with other fictional character/celebrity/OC/reader and its short prompt as well! **


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